ASPS 2
by Precambrian Studios
Summary: Sophomore year approaches for the ASPS, and with that means changes. Changes that will deeply affect their lives, those of the people around them, and Fielding itself.
1. Karis

Karis walked into Fielding's front office, exhausted from having to search for the school for almost the whole day; she had to find a shop that actually sold maps to get a proper bearing, as nobody was willing to stop and tell her where any of the buildings were.

She approached the front desk where a small woman with pearl earrings sat reading a leatherback novel with no visible title. "Excuse me?" Karis said.

The woman looked up from her book. "What?"

Karis was taken aback; the last thing she ever expected was a school official to be rude to her, especially a woman. That's not a good sign. "Um, I'm new here, I think I have a dorm."

"What's your name?"

"Karis Chapman."

"And I'm going to take a guess here that you never found out where your dorm is."

Karis guiltily diverted her gaze. "No."

"No you didn't find out, or no you're wrong?" the woman asked, contempt creeping into her voice.

"Um, no, I don't know where it is," Karis admitted ashamedly.

The woman grumbled to herself. She reached across her desk to grab a small map folded into a small square. Grunting as though it was a strain to do so, she took it and thrust it at Karis, who was feeling even more unwelcome by the minute. "Here."

"Um…thank you?"

"Sure," the woman said. She stuck her nose back into her book and did not say anything to Karis again.

Swallowing back the frightened lump in her throat, Karis said, "Um, ma'am, I don't know which dorm I'm in."

The woman shot Karis a nasty look. She leaned back her head and screeched, "Jack!"

A tall senior walked into view. His hair was slicked back and there was a very long scar stretching under an eye. Karis swallowed: he looked like her father. "Yes ma'am?" he said.

"I have a new student here," she said, indicating Karis. "Her name's Karis, could you take her to her dorm?"

"Sure, thing, ma'am," he said in a steely voice; Karis could tell he held as much affection for this woman as she did now. Jack beckoned towards the door, and Karis followed, suit-case in tow.

XXXX

Once outside, Jack said "Sorry you had to face the dragon back there."

"So am I," Karis muttered.

"Huh, you're English?"

Karis wasn't listening; she was too busy watching all the other students, towering at least two heads above her, striding by.

"Karis?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, born and bred Londoner. Kensington."

"Neat." He walked off and waved his hand, indicating for Karis to follow him. "So, kid," he said, "What grade are you going into?"

"Well, I believe here it's known as the eighth grade. We say year nine."

They passed a group of blonde-haired girls, all wearing these odd-looking bands on their wrists. They saw Karis and stared at her blank eyes. She heard one of them whisper, "Yikes, freaky-deeky."

Her guide gave them a steely look and the girls shut up. "Tops. Load of little bitches."

"They're not a gang, are they, um…..what's your name again?"

"Jack is good. Last name's Card."

"Okay. Jack there aren't any gangs here, are there?" The last thing Karis wanted was to be beaten up on her first day at Fielding. She'd already gone through that experience once at Wycome-Abbey, and once was enough.

Jack looked like he was about to say something, but he caught himself. His lips pursed. After a moment, he explained, "Well, the Tops are more like a clique, they won't go after you unless you bother of them, so they're kinda like bees. And Fielding has no tolerance for gangs."

Karis breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good. It's just that I've been told that this state has a lot of gangs in its schools."

"That's more up north. So Karis, what classes are you taking?"

"Oh, um, Algebra II with Trigonometry, physiology, French, language studies, composition, and keyboarding."

Jack gave an impressed whistle. "Nice."

She smiled. "I like to challenge myself."

"You'll like the study groups, then."

Her face fell. "Study groups? Are those mandatory? Because I'm not exactly a people person."

"Neither am I. No, they're not mandatory, but they are helpful."

"Can I get a private tutor?"

"If you can pay for one. If you can't, good luck finding someone to volunteer to do it."

"Oh."

Karis had never liked people that much; during her primary school days, all the other children she ever encountered were either stupid or said mean, degrading things to her. This was her primary reason for having her parents put her in boarding school. After that, she encountered smart, intelligent people who said mean, degrading things to her. And even when Karis found nice people she could talk openly to, she usually scared them off with her distant personality. "That's why I'm not hoping out for a friend," she muttered.

"What?" Jack said.

Her eyes widened. "Um, nothing." _Quit doing that, she said to herself, it makes you look weird._

He shrugged. After a few more minute of walking, they stood before the Blair Residence Hall, an all-girls dormitory. "I'm afraid I can't go in with you," Jack said.

"Why? No boys allowed?"

"No. Too scared. There's a rumor that some girl had the entire place booby trapped in case guys decide to come snooping. And frankly, I don't want to find out."

"You're not serious."

He chuckled. "Believe me, if you knew what kind of people go to this school...you'll see soon enough." He reached into his pocket and procured a wallet, which he dropped into Karis's hand.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Your ID, your key to Blair, and five bucks in case you want to get something to eat. Or you can get one of those little electronic fans, I hear it's going to be a hot summer."

Karis pocketed the wallet offered Jack a polite, slight bow; in her family, that was an ordinary form of farewell.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Enjoy your summer here," he said. Karis swore there was a hint of reluctance in his voice. He departed quickly, as if her were afraid of the dorm before them.

She walked up to the door and turned the lock. No sooner than she had stepped inside the building and processed its dull Fifties wall-paper was she swarmed by three students, all of whom were armed with water guns.

Karis was so shocked she could only stand there, wide-eyed. The armed students lowered their water guns. One of them, a girl with brown eyes and curly hair, said, "You're a girl. Phew."

"Well, I'm certainly no male," Karis said with a blank voice; her tone had yet to recover from the shock.

"Oh, I like your accent!" said another girl, who had long blonde hair and a freckled face. The other girls nodded in agreement; being English was always a good trait. "Um, you can put your arms down now," said the blonde girl.

Karis realized she'd raised her hands into the air. She brought them down to her sides and procured her ID. "Uh, I'm new. Is this what you usually do to new people here?"

"No," said the brown-haired girl. "Last week, some idiot inside the dorm released the key and had it copied; some dumb boys broke in and tried to slip into the showers."

"I heard the place was booby trapped for that reason," Karis said. "It's obviously true. What do you use? Trip-wires, mines?" she chuckled at the next thought. "Lasers?"

"Toy ones, yeah," said the third girl, who had dark brown skin and hair pulled back into a pony-tail.

Karis laughed, but after looking at the expressions of the other girls, saw that they were serious. "Um, is it too late for me to go to Grove Hills?"

The brown-haired girl laughed. "Yup. Oh, I'm Zara by the way. This is Heather," she said, indicating the blonde girl, "and Naomie."

"Hi," they both said.

"What's your name?" Naomie asked.

"I'm Karis Chapman."

"Hi Karis. Hey, do you know your room number?" Zara asked. "I can take you up to your room," she offered.

"Sure, that'd be nice. It's 116."

Naomie and Heather moved aside to let Karis pass. "So," said Karis, "is everyone in this building armed with water guns?"

"No, just us four," Zara explained. "Me, Naomie, Heather, and Lizzie. She's our leader, she organized the booby-traps."

"And the whole building agreed to be wired?"

"Well, truthfully, at first, a couple people kinda liked being peeked at." Zara stuck out her tongue in disgust at the thought. Karis shriveled at the idea as well. "But then we found out that the Lax Bros were trying to get in."

"Lax bros? They have those here too?"

"They have them from...wherever you're from?"

"London."

"You have lacrosse? Thought you'd have more cricket."

"My school had a couple teams."

"Yeah, well, they're the skeeviest people around here. We didn't get any complaints from the other boarders after everyone found THAT out."

"So, what'd you end up installing?"

Zara stopped. "That, for one thing." She pointed to a brown square on the floor. Karis crouched next to it and saw a small spring underneath. She backed away nervously.

"Is that an actual mine?"

"It sets off a really loud alarm. Wakes everyone up. That's really all we need; once the lax-holes realize they can get caught, it's time to high-tail it. And if that doesn't get to their thick skulls, we have our water guns."

"Do you think water will make them melt?"

"They don't have water inside." An eyebrow arched over one of Karis's white eyes in disbelief over the implication. Zara gave an affirming, almost embarrassed nod. "Don't ask, wasn't even my idea. Ah! Here's your dorm."

Karis immediately noticed the large cracks running down the door. "Homely."

"Yeah, we do need to get those fixed." She pat down her uniform and cursed. "Crap, I don't have the key….I'll be right back!" Zara took off to parts unknown.

As she sat waiting for her to return, Karis recounted her day: _I got lip from a school official, got called a freak by a group of snobby bitches, held up by radical feminists, and my door has a foot-long two-way peephole. Well, I've certainly had worse._

_On the bright side, nobody has said anything to my face about my eyes yet, and I have a clean slate here. So there's that too._

"Karis!"

She turned and saw Zara returning with a newcomer: a tall, pale girl with yellow eyes and midnight-black hair that reached down to her shoulders. Despite this girl's rather ghoulish appearance, she was smiling warmly.

"This is Lizzie," Zara said.

'Lizzie' and Karis shook hands. "Hi, I'm Karis."

"Nice meeting you, Karis. My name's Elizabeth." She reached into her jacket pocket and procured Karis' room key, which she handed over. "Sorry about the cracks in the door, the prefect's supposed to be getting someone down here tomorrow to seal them. So, you're a new boarder, huh?"

Karis gave a nod. "New here, yes, very much so."

"Mm. Well Karis, I'd love to get to know you, but I have to run, I'm sorry. Do you need anything? Have any questions?"

Karis thought about it, and decided she did want to know one thing: "Does the school library have a large selection of French books?"

"By French authors or with French text?"

"Either one is fine. I'm a big Francophile." _Please know what that means..._

Elizabeth understood the term. She tried to recall the contents of the Kiara Beale library, but ended up drawing a muddled picture of the expansive library in her head. "Um...not sure."

"Yeah, there are," Zara confirmed. "Big section in the back, there's this huge bust of Voltaire, can't miss it."

Karis nodded. "Thanks." She opened her door and crept inside, uttering a quick "nice meeting you," as she closed the door.  
No sooner than she had closed it, Elizabeth was running off.

"Woah!" Zara exclaimed. Ever the athlete, she was quickly able to catch up to Elizabeth, who had never run more than a mile in her life. "Where you going?"

"Have to tell someone something," Elizabeth panted.

She dashed into the stairwell and rushed up two flights. By the time she'd gotten to the room she wanted, she was almost sweating. "Okay," she hacked to Zara, "Running. Very. Bad. Idea."

"Apparently."

Elizabeth knocked on the door of room 215 three times. Then, she took a small slip of paper from her pocket and slid it under the crack of the door.

"What the hell was that about?" Zara asked.

"Just doing someone a favor," Elizabeth answered. She noted Zara's confused expression. "I'll tell you later. Let's go set up the catapults."

XXXX

The paper slipped under the door. Immediately, the denizen of room 215 was on her knees, grasping eagerly for the small slip of paper. She picked it up and read its message: Arrived. The girl stood back up and quickly dialed into her cell phone.

After three rings, it picked up. "Hello?" said a barren, unfeeling voice.

"It's me," said Michelle Smith. "She's here."

There was a momentary pause. "Well, took her long enough," huffed Ethan.

Then the line went dead. He'd hung up.  
_  
Pfft, how polite, _Michelle thought sarcastically.

-Characters and settings used from "The Hallowed Halls of Fielding" by Roentgen.


	2. Blair

**Chapter 2: Blair**

Karis took in her new room's appearance, and said out loud, "Eh." It was a very disappointed eh.

The room was simple, almost too simple. There was a bunk bed, a roll-top desk, and a drawer. No baskets, no closet. Its white, smooth walls made her think of isolation cells. The kind they put insane people in.

"You're over-thinking it," she told herself. She set her suit-case on her bed and opened it. She unceremoniously tossed out the few pairs of casual outfits she had bothered to bring with her, and out took her four Fielding uniforms, tenderly putting them in her dresser's top floor. Karis then took her tooth-brush, paste, and floss, and threw those on her desk. Finally, she took the last item in the suitcase, her stuffed bear Basil, and gingerly set him on her bed's pillow.

Satisfied at the arrangement of the room, she decided she had better go and meet the dean. "Have to start building good relationships this time around," she told herself. Karis turned to her mirror to check how she looked, but realized there was no mirror. "Right. Not my room. Have to remember that."

She walked out and saw another girl walking down the hall. "Hey!" Karis called. The girl did not seem to have heard her. "Hey!" Still no response. Karis jogged up to the girl, who had mousy-brown hair and was at least a foot taller than Karis. "Scuse me."

The girl turned around. Karis's stomach churned for a moment when she saw the white cane. Oh, you bloody moron, how did you not see that?

"Yeah?" went Michelle, an impatient tone in her voice. "What is it?"

Is everyone at this school so goddamn rude? "Where's the bathroom?" Karis asked, in as patient a tone she could muster herself.

Michelle raised the cane and pointed it straight ahead of herself. Karis had to step out of the way. "Down the hall, blue door."

"Yeah, thanks."

As Karis was about to leave, Michelle said, "Hold on." Karis stopped. "Sorry if I sounded a little mean just now," she said, putting on a smile. "You just caught me on a busy time."

"It's all right," Karis shrugged. "To be honest, I knew some much meaner bitches in London."

"Ha! You haven't been around Jordan long enough."

"Who's Jordan?"

"Jordan Carraway? The dean?"

The pit of Karis's stomach sank. "Um, I never met her. I'm new. Is she really mean?"

Michelle's unseeing eyes narrowed. "Yeah, pretty nasty. She's really strict, afraid of her reputation among the faculty, I think. Strict perfectionist. Ever see Full Metal Jacket?"

"Oh god. That bad?"

"Just about. Just avoid her, she doesn't like to be pestered. Hey, you new here?"

"Oui." Karis extended her hand. "I'm Karis Chapman." She noticed that Michelle hadn't shook her own hand. Embarrassed, Karis asked, "Sorry, can I shake your hand?" She was too flustered to notice Michelle's nervous expression, which she quickly hid.

"I'm Michelle Smith."

"Hi Michelle. Um, I hope you don't mind me asking, but isn't it hard being a student here? Like for you? Oh god, that was stupid, I shouldn't-"

Michelle waved her hand in dismissal of the transgression. "It's okay, I get asked that all the time. Not really, I can see just a little, just stick stuff an inch from my face. On second thought, don't." They both laughed. "Honestly, it's not that bad. I just need to get a new typewriter now and then. And I have my friends to give me a hand. Speaking of which, I was about to go and meet one of them right now. Wanna come with?"

Karis's heart started to pound. "Um, ah, I don't think I should, I'm not good with people."

"Oh, that's okay," Michelle said. She went for the choker: "It's a kind of in-born trait with me. I have Asperger's syndrome."

Karis frowned. "What's that?"

Michelle's sudden, sharp swallow went unnoticed by Karis because of a loud knocking sound at the front door. Immediately, Zara, Elizabeth, and Naomie were on the scene with water guns. "It's all right," Michelle said to the three as she turned away from Karis, who silently crept away. "Zara, are you here right now?"

"Yeah."

"It's your brother."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." She lowered her water gun and opened the door. Wehrung strode in. His poofy black hair had grown down to his shoulders, and he sported a full-on goatee, which was a rare feat for sophs. His bandage had been traded in favor of a black eye-patch.

"Hey Alex," Zara said.

"What's up, Puff?" he replied.

"Stop calling me that."

"Sure Puff. Whatever you say, Puff." He narrowly dodged a stream of yellow liquid from Zara's water gun. He walked up to Michelle. "Hey. Ethan told me she came."

"Yeah, she did. Is she still here?"

"What she look like?"

Michelle crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Wehrung to realize his mistake. He cursed and turned to his sister. "Hey Puff, what does Karis Chapman look like?"

"The new girl? Red hair, all-white eyes, about my height."

Wehrung turned back to Michelle. "Nope, not here. You talk to her?"

"Yeah, I did." She sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "And we have a problem."


	3. Control

Wehrung sat in a chair across from Michelle as she explained to him the conversation she'd just had with Karis. He bit his lip, and made a soft humming sound as he mulled over what she'd just told him. "Well, gotta say I didn't see that coming," he said.

"None of us did. I've known I've had Asperger's since the seventh grade. You?"

"My parents told me in the fifth grade, and when they did I gave them this look. My mom got upset and drove off." He wrung his hands and stared at the floor.

"I….I'm sorry," Michelle said. "That must have been rough."

He shrugged. "My dad found her a little later. But right now I'm thinking, how will Karis react when she finds out?"

Michelle shook her head, and said "No way," in an affirmative tone, as though whatever argument had been started was now over.

Wehrung looked confused. "What?"

"It's not our place to tell her."

"But shouldn't she know? It'd probably be better for her sake."

"Alex, do-"

He cringed. "Please don't say that."

Michelle's sightless eyes rolled in their sockets. "Whatever." She pointed a finger at him. "You remember how you felt when you found out?"

"Yeah, I wasn't ha…" Realization dawned on him. "….oh. I get you."

"Exactly. We are not, I repeat, _not_, telling her."

He threw up his hands. "All right, all right," he said, giving up. Then his tone became anxious: "Ethan's going to be pissed." Wehrung did not like being on the receiving end of their leader's icy stare.

"Who cares? He'll have to learn he can't get everything, someday."

Wehrung scoffed. "I'm not holding my breath." He checked his watch and saw that it was almost twelve o-clock. "Hey, wanna go grab lunch?"

"Yeah, sure," she said. As she stood up, she asked, "But mind if I run one errand first?"

"Fine by me."

XXXX

Karis walked into the library and was floored; it reminded her of the library from _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade_. There were over two floors of books, ranging from school text-books to novels. Thousands upon thousands of years of knowledge of thousands of cultures, histories, and stories, all complied in one single school library. She could only hope their audio-book collection was as impressive.

She approached the first student she saw, a tall boy with dark-blonde hair that fell to his shoulders, messily cut. "Excuse me?"

The student turned. He had a somewhat goof grin on his face, as though someone had told him a dirty joke. "Yo."

"Where are the audio books?"

He pointed beyond her, towards the back of the library. "Down there, behind the desks. There's a big red sign that says, 'Audio Collection', that'll help you."

"Thanks." She walked off to find the audio books. As she passed some other students sitting at the tables, she couldn't help but notice them staring right at her, into her milk-white eyes. She instantly felt small and uncomfortable; she could feel her stomach churn. _I really have to buy some sun-glasses,_ she thought. _They'll stop the staring, and I won't have to look any of them in the eye too._

When she found the audio books, she was absolutely horrified; there were only around thirty. And they were all learning-tools for Spanish classes. _No, no no nooooooooooooo._ A panic welled up inside her chest. _How will I read any required reading? Textbooks? This has to be a mistake, there's no way a school this goddamn rich can only have these few._

She walked off to find blonde-haired student again. Once she'd found him, she asked, "Um, excuse me, are you sure that's the audio book section? I only found a coupe."

He shrugged. "Yup, that's it."

She gave him a look of wide-eyed disbelief. "You're kidding me."

"Nope," he said, shaking his head, causing his pony-tail to wag around. " 'School hasn't bought any new ones in years, or maintained the ones we've had, mostly because we rarely ever have students with visual disabilities."

"But I met a blind girl today, that can't be true!"

"Who, Michelle Smith? She's not completely blind, I hear she can read a bit. I'm sorry, do you have a vision problem?"

"Can't you tell?" she pointed at her pupils.

The brown-haired student laughed. "No, I actually need glasses myself, I left them in my room. Listen, what's your name?"

"Karis."

"Hey, Karis, name's Ash."

"Williams?"

He grinned. "Love that movie. Nah, not Williams, Winters. Anyway, Karis, what I'd do if I were you is I'd go to the front office and talk to someone, maybe one of the aides, there's three: John, Lacee, and Dick. They can probably give you a hand."

"Okay, thanks Ash."

"No problem."

As Karis left the library and headed over to the office, her thoughts raced. _How am I going to get any work done if I can't read anything? God dammit, dammit dammit dammit! What kind of school doesn't have at least a few decent audio books? Stupid idiot moron facul-_

Her thoughts were interrupted as she accidentally bumped into another student who looked about her age. "Sor-"

The girl pushed her. "Watch where you're going, bitch."

Karis's eyes widened at the insult. "What, retard, you forget your cane?" The girl's friends laughed.

Karis felt a sinking sensation in her stomach, and her heart raced. She remembered her first day of private school in England: almost exactly like this. Except then, she'd been stupid and pushed the girl back. That girl had bullied her for the rest of the year.

She looked back at this girl for a few moments. The girl, a mean-looking brunette with large arms, returned the stare, as if challenging her to make a move. _I would love to put you in your place. In fact, I might-_

A boy only a little higher than Karis, with black hair pulled into a pony-tail wearing expensive tortoiseshell glasses suddenly appeared, a camera in hand. Grinning stupidly, he shouted, "Yeah, c'mon, fight!"

The sight of this weasel suddenly snapped Karis to her senses. She realized that if she retaliated, the results would plague her for the rest of the school year, just like then before. _No, no way. Before, it ended up getting me expelled, in the end. It's not worth it. Fighting back is never worth it. Least for me, it hasn't been._

"You know what?" Karis said. The brunette raised an eyebrow. "Ignoramuses like you aren't worth my time." She turned on her heel and walked away. She was now walking away from the office, but Karis wanted to make final her decision not to retaliate. The boy with the camera continued to film her as she walked away.

The brunette spat at Karis. "Whatever, bitch," she called. The words stung at Karis, but she kept on walking. The brunette turned her attention back to her friends, and they walked away, laughing.

The boy with the camera stopped filming. He smiled, satisfied at his work. _That couldn't have gone better._

_-Ashley Winters created by Ognawk._


	4. The Coming Storm

There was a knock at Ethan's door. He lazily dropped a piece of lettuce into the cage of his hamsters, Hannibal and Frederick, and answered the door.

The boy who had filmed Karis's encounter with the bully stood in front of him. Smiling, he handed the camera to Ethan. "Got it."

"Thank you, Harris."

"Sure thing," Gage said. As Ethan went to watch the tape, Gage walked inside, sitting down in Ethan's new bean-bag chair. "She acted really maturely, showed a lot of restraint. Only called the girl an ignoramus, and walked away."

"Mm," Ethan murmured, only half listening. He was lost in thought, thinking about how a potential fifth ASP would serve to benefit their society.

XXXX

"Hi again, Jack," Karis said shyly to Jonathan Card as she walked up to meet him at his desk.

"Hm? Oh, hey there," he said. He turned his attention away from the papers he'd been filling out and swiveled in his chair to face her. "What's up?"

"Well, I just went to the library, and saw that there's barely any audio books." She pointed to her eyes. "I have specialized ocular albinism, my eyes go wonky when I try to read. I _need_ those books."

"Huh." He scratched at his cheek, pondering her problem. "Well," he said eventually, "That's something you'll have to take up with our Disabilities Office. They're the only ones on-campus who have the resources and authority to handle problems like that."

"Why?"

"Well, of course, it's to handle students with special needs."

Of course, she thought. "Can they get me audio books?"

"No idea, I haven't stepped inside that building in five years."

"Did you work there too?"

He shook his head. "No. I have something called Asperger's syndrome."

Something tickled at the back of Karis's mind. After a moment, she realized why. "I met someone today who said they had it. What is it?"

Jonathan's eyes narrowed. "Was it a guy with yellow eyes?"

"No, why?"

"Ah, no reason. Well, to answer your question, Asperger's syndrome is a high-functioning version of autism. People like me who have it usually lack people skills, and sometimes have raging obsessions with things. Like, when I was a kid, I was really, and I mean REALLY into Star Trek."

_That kind of sounds like me,_ Karis thought. _What with me liking French so much. Eh, I can't have it. Mum and Dad would have told me if I did, I think._ She shrugged the thought off. "Well, if they handle stuff as mild as that, I hope you don't mind if I call it mild-"

"Not at all."

"You think they could handle my problem?"

"Maybe. It's possible, it's just that I never had to have anything ordered for me. It's worth a shot, you want me to take you there?"

"No thanks, I can make it."

XXXX

Ethan turned off the tape. He folded his hands in front of him as he stood up. He paced around the room for a moment as he collected his thoughts. Gage, meanwhile, tinkered with his pin cushion.

"I agree," Ethan said.

Gage looked up. "Huh?"

"She did show remarkable restraint. And I certainly approve of her use of 'ignoramus.' I'm just concerned, however, if she can be trusted." He removed his business jacket and put on a pair of sunglasses. "I'm going to go find Michelle, and see if she's met her yet. Would you like to come with me?"

Gage shrugged. "It's not like I have anything better to do."

"Then it's a good thing you're friends with me, Harris. You're never bored."

"Sometimes, man, you're really bad at picking up certain cues," Gage mumbled as he followed Ethan out the door.

XXXX

Karis walked inside the Disabilities Office, which was a small portable located on the far side of the campus, towards Underhill. There was a small waiting area with about four chairs, and the desk where the secretary was supposed to be.

"She'll be back in a bit," Michelle said. Karis jumped; she did not notice her sitting in the corner. Wehrung sat next to her, reading a book, his eye-patch sitting in his lap. Karis fought the urge to gag; where his left eye had been was a mess of burnt scar tissue. "Thanks, Michelle," she squeaked, her stomach churning.

Michelle's face brightened. "Oh! Hey, is that you, Karis?" Wehrung's head shot up. "Oh, you're NNNNNNNGH," he groaned as Michelle reached her hand under his jacket and gave him a hard pinch in his side to shut him up.

Karis did not notice. "Ah, yeah, it's me. Are you two here for help, too?"

"Yeah," Michelle said. "I'm waiting for them to get my typewriter. I sent it in for repair."

Sitting down in the chair across from the two, Karis leaned forward and asked hopefully "Do they provide audio books? You must have asked for some at some point, Michelle."

"At first, yeah. But I got sick of the headphones, they made my ears all sweaty. But yeah, they do give out audio books. You have to pay for them, though."

Karis smiled. _A break, thank goodness._ "Awesome, I really need them. My eyes tend to dart over the place when I read." Her gaze shifted to Wehrung. "Um, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. And I'm sorry to ask, but could you put that patch back on? I get sick when I see stuff like that."

As he put the patch over his eye, Michelle introduced him. "This is my friend Alex, but he prefers to go by his last name, Wehrung."

"Is that German?" Karis asked.

He nodded. "It's just that there's dozens of other people called Alex here, and I thought my last name would be more interesting. Heck, it's better than my middl-" He caught himself, his face going the same color as Karis's hair. "Never mind."

An awkward silence pervaded the atmosphere for a moment. Then, for the sake of polite conversation, Wehrung asked, "So, Karis, what grade are you in?"

"Year ni…sorry, eighth grade. I'm boarding here, and I'm going to see if I can take a summer course."

"Really?" Michelle gave an approving look. "Good choice. Gets those credits up. What classes you taking?"

XXXX

"…..and then my father punched him in the nose," Ethan finished.

Gage laughed at the image of Jim Vitale, who always seemed like a frightening, tough man to him, on his knees in front of the boots of the lanky Xander Dressler. "All over the rights to host a fundraiser, huh?"

"My father has always had a contempt for lawyers. Ironic, considering he married one."

"I have a feeling your dad and my gramps wouldn't get along."

"Probably not. ….Gage, I have a question."

"No, babies do not come from-"

He ducked, dodging the blood-red tie Ethan attempt to slap his face with. Ethan continued, "This new girl, Karis. She's not even a high-schooler yet. Do you think it's a wise idea to bring her into this club? Because I must admit that I'm having second thoughts at this point."

Gage thought about it. "Well," he said, "She's an eighth grader. We were all ninth graders when we joined. How old was Annette when she formed it?"

"A junior."

"Oh. Well, I think Karis should be fine, she seems to be pretty mature. I think we were all pretty mature two years ago."

"Perhaps. But I-" his voice caught in his throat. He spied four girls, longtime bully Lori Lincoln at their head, approaching the Disabilities Office. Each girl held an egg carton in their hands. Two of them were already prying off the tops of the cardboard cartons.

"Didn't Michelle have an appointment today?" Ethan asked.

Gage's face paled. "Oh no."


	5. Periculosum Valde

**BREAKING NEWS: A school shooting has been reported at Fielding Preparatory Academy. Around a dozen students have been reported as injured. We will bring you updates as they come in.**  
_  
-Half an hour earlier….._

"'Knowledge' my ass," Lori Lincoln sneered as her friends followed behind her. "Just making them feel stupid isn't enough. You have to make them look stupid."

"I can't wait to see the look on her face," said Pat Andrews, Lori's horce-faced, muscular crony. She felt the weight of the egg in her hand, imagining the yolk dripping down the new girl's red hair. Pat had always wanted red hair; perhaps this would help her vent her frustration at not having any herself. "She'll absolutely freak."

"Maybe we can get into the Tops after this. You know, for making this new, supposedly-pretty chick hideous," pondered the third girl, a seventh-grader by the name of Josephine.

"You can worry about that if you want," Lori said, lazily tossing an egg into the air and catching it a few times. "I just want to send the message that we aren't going to be messed with anymore."

Pat nodded, thinking of all the times people had made fun of her looks, calling her all sorts of names. Now, they'd be too scared to call any of them anything.

"Did you get Natalie to get the word out?" Lori asked Josephine.

The small girl looked around and saw dozens of students converging on the disabilities office. Some had wide grins, expecting a show.

Others had pale, drawn faces, knowing what was about to happen would have dire consequences.

The fourth girl with eggs, Lizzy Clark, pushed her glasses up her nose defiantly at the students who had begun to protest against them. "Come on," she yelled. "Like you've never wanted to do this."

A girl with orange hair and spectacles pushed her way to the front of the crowd. "Leave those kids alone, Lori!"

"Piss off, Cassidy," she replied.

"The profs are going to be here any minute, brat," called Jack Card. "You're not going to make it out of this alive."

"Zip it, asshat," Sue Bentley called from the crowd. "Let these girls have their fun." Josephine beamed.

"Yeah," someone else shouted. "Let the free-loaders get what's coming to them!"

By the time the four had walked up to the office, there was a crowd of around four dozen students, all shouting.

XXXX

Michelle, Karis, and Wehrung did not hear them; the Disabilities Office had been insulated against sound, in the event of a student with hyper-sensitive hearing arrived. The three did, however, feel the vibrations from the stamping of several-dozen feet.

"What's that?" Wehrung wondered out loud.

"Air conditioner acting up again, probably," Michelle guessed, shrugging. "They're always breaking down around here."

They waited patiently as Karis was examined by a specialist down the hall, as he tested her vision to prove her claims of ocular albinism.

Wehrung read a National Geographic magazine, and Michelle read the book he had brought with him. "How can you read this stuff?" she asked. "It's nasty. Kinda like the author."

She handed him Cujo. "I'll admit, some of his movies aren't particularly good," he said, "But some of his books are pretty chilling."

Michelle nodded, before lowering her voice to a whisper, "I was thinking. Even if we shouldn't tell Karis about her condition, you think we could invite her to hang out with us as a friend?"

"Hm. Maybe. But we've only spent, like, ten minutes with her. I don't know that much about her yet."

She arched an eye-brow. "Apart from her height, weight, dental records, financial standing, why she's here-"

His fingers twitched on the arm-rests. "Those are technical details," he interjected. "What you pull off a computer doesn't tell you anything about the soul."

"The soul? Really?" she said in a pained, but playful voice.

He groaned. "Her personality, there."

She gave an assenting nod. "Yeah, you're kinda right. We'll see."

Karis walked back into the waiting room, a stack of audio books under one arm. "Got them," she said. "And they're going to order a couple for me in French, too!"

"You speak French?" Wehrung inquired, interested.

Smiling, she nodded, eager to tell them both. "I know the whole language, I can understand it, I can speak it, and I can guarantee you I can answer any question about anything even remotely related to France."

"Really?" Wehrung said. He racked his brain for the best random question to ask her, to get her to prove what she was saying. After a few moments, he had one: "What did Louis XIV eat?"

Karis shot off an answer in rapid-fire: "Different kinds of soup, around four, partridge, duck, ham, gravy with mutton, salads, hard-boiled eggs, and pastries. All just for lunch."

A whistle emanated from Michelle's lips. "Wow. That's so cool!"

"You really think so?" Karis exclaimed happily.

"Yeah, I do," Michelle sincerely confirmed.

"I do too," said Wehrung, also meaning it.

"Thanks," Karis said. She felt ecstatic; they were the first people who had ever shown interest, or even approval, of her proud obsession.

Wehrung checked his watch. "Hey, Michelle, we have to go."

"Oh, yeah." She remembered that they were scheduled for a fitting with Gage. As they stood up to leave, Michelle stopped and said,  
"Hey, Karis, wanna come with us?"

She looked unsure, but asked in a cautious voice, "Well, where are you going?"

"We have a friend of ours who tailors suits and dresses, we're going to go get fitted for a benefit dinner that's next week. Maybe we could find something that fits you."

Karis's face fell. "But I'm not going to this benefit."

"No," Michelle admitted. "But it's just nice to have a dress, don't you agree?" She smiled.

Karis laughed lightly. "I can't disagree with that. Sure, I'll come with!"

"Cool!" Michelle said.

Wehrung opened the door for them, his good eye trained away from the outside.

"So, your friend," Karis started to say, "How good is he with-"

An egg flew past her face and hit Wehrung square in the forehead. He swore violently. Some of the crowd cheered, while others continued to heckle Lori's gang, but they were unable to do anything, as they were held back and blocked by the ones cheering.

Michelle blanched. "What's going on?" Then an egg hit her in the knee, another in the stomach. One hit Karis's shoulder, another at the top of her head. There were squeals, some from the victims but most from the eager crowd.

Wehrung let out a roar like a wounded animal and charged. Another egg him in the face, and he stumbled backward.

"STOP IT!" Michelle screamed, shielding her face with her hands.

For a moment, Pat seemed uncertain. Then Lori gave her a cold stare, and they resumed throwing. Within moments, they had emptied their first cartons of eggs.

Karis was too stunned to move. She could only stare at them and whisper in a flat, shocked voice, "Why are you doing this?"

"What was that, bitch?" jeered Josephine. She threw another egg.

Karis caught it. Surprisingly, it did not break in her hand. Realizing this, she hurled it back at her tormentor. The egg hit Josephine square in the crotch. Her face turned the color of a ripe tomato. "YOU ARE A GONER," she screeched. She reached down and picked up a small rock.

From out of the crowd, Gage charged and stood in front of his friends. He spread his arms defensively. "Stop, please!" he pleaded. His lip quivered, his eyes begged. "Leave them alone!" He was clearly afraid.

"Pfft, they asked for it," snarled Josephine.

"Get out of the way, Gage," hissed Lizzy. "Or you're dead."

Gage swallowed. He licked his lips. Then there was a small pop. He stumbled backward.

The crowd immediately hushed. Their gazes were all transfixed on the red blotch at the center of Gage's chest. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his posture went slack, he gasped and crumpled to the ground.

There were more pops. Students screamed and ran for cover as more of them were shot. People tripped and fell as the quad became blotched with red spots. Teachers had begun to emerge from their classrooms and offices and braved the chaos to get students to cover.

The ensuing pandemonium happened so fast and so violently, that Karis did not have time to realize that someone had taken her hand and was pulling her away from the chaos.

**BREAKING NEWS: It has been confirmed that the shooting on the Fielding campus was carried out with the use of a paint-ball gun. It was found discarded on the roof of one of the residential dorms. Students are now being treated for non-life-threatening injuries.  
"Make no mistake, this will not go unpunished," said the Fielding Headmaster. "The police are cooperating with us fully in anticipation of what will be an extensive investigation. If this heinous attack was carried out by a student, I assure that they will be caught and severely punished. Until then, Fielding will be adopting strict measures to ensure the safety of students."  
-XYZ News, Reporting.**

Wehrung, his eye red from crying, wiped more muck out of Karis's hair as she sat, silent, on a stool. Nearby, Ethan was looking out the window of his dorm, watching more emergency vehicles pull in. Gage was inside Ethan's bathroom, treating the large bruise on his chest. Michelle had slumped into Ethan's rocking chair, and allowed herself to be examined by Jack.

"Are you sure that this won't link back to you?" she asked Ethan.

He did not take his eyes off the ambulances, as they ran to calm more screaming students. "I was never on the roof in the first place; I was in one of the empty Underhill dorms. I was wearing latex gloves, the paint gun had no registration on it."

Michele nodded. Exhausted, she let her head rest in her hands, and Jack took a step away to leave her be.

"God, I can't believe this is happening," Gage said as he walked out of the bathroom, his Fielding jacket discarded. He had let down his pony-tail, letting his hair silky fall over one of the lenses of his glasses. "We just made national news and wasted emergency services' time."

Ethan twirled around, a furious look in his eyes. "And to you, that is more important than the safety of your friends?"

Gage's eyes widened. "No, no! That's not what I-"

"That's not at all what he meant, Ethan," Jack asserted. "Besides, we're a little frazzled by what just happened." He gestured to the door. "May I talk to you for a moment?"

"I'm busy."

"No, you're not," Jack spat angrily.

Ethan sighed. "Fine." He followed Jack outside his room.

Wiping at his eye, Wehrung said as he removed an egg-shell out of Karis's wiry locks, "I think this might be the end of the pranking days."

Gage gave a silent nod. Michelle grabbed at her hair and pulled at a handful of strands. "Damn it," she swore. She looked up; a tear ran down a cheek. "Sometimes I forget how much this place can really suck."

"It doesn't suck," Wehrung said. "It blows."

There was a brief silence, followed by small laughs from Gage and Michelle. "That was horrible," Gage grinned. "And that's from Full Metal Jacket."

"Well, I had to do something to lighten up this whole thing."

Ethan walked back inside.

XXXX

Jack shut the door.

"I'm going to give it to you straight, Dressler," he said in a low, ominous tone. He was not at all intimidated by the towering Ethan. "I've never liked you. You took Annette's vision of this club and made it into some sick, dangerous revenge-quest." He sighed and rubbed his face. "I admit, what happened today wasn't your fault, but now this campus is going to be really, and I mean really, paranoid and angry." His face became hard and stern. He jabbed a finger into Ethan's chest. Ethan bared his incisors. "And I swear, if I hear that any of those kids you've dragged into this get hurt, I will make sure you spend the next decade in a cell. Get me?"

"Yes," he growled.

"I hope." Jack turned to walk away.

"Card!" Ethan called.

The former ASP turned. Ethan reached into his jacket and tossed a small, shiny object to him. Jack caught it: it was a pin with a gold snake on it, with the words "Periculosum Valde" scrawled underneath it.

"Remember your roots," Ethan said sardonically. He walked back inside his room before Jack could respond.

"What was that about?" Gage asked.

"Nothing," Ethan intoned. "How are you all feeling?"

"Like crap," Michelle said. "Crap dipped in diarrhea."

"Me too," Wehrung said. "Although I feel a little better, knowing that all those people just got the living hell scared out of them."

Ethan looked at Gage. "I'm sorry that I had to shoot you."

"Hey, I agreed to the whole thing," he grumbled. "Just promise me we'll never have to do anything like that again."

"I hope not," Ethan said sincerely.

He walked over to Karis and knelt to meet her eyes. "Chapman, you all right? Anything broken?"

She turned and looked at him for a moment. It was a numb look, one of confusion and utter disbelief.

Then, with eggshells and yolk still plastered to her body, she walked out of the dorm.

Karis kept on walking. She walked past the cold dormitories, each hosting another monster. Then out into the courtyard, where she went unnoticed by the emergency staff and other students. She did not even look at Lori Lincoln, who screamed violently at the paramedics as they set a trampled leg.

She walked into Blair, down the hallway, and into her room. She sat on the bed and stared at the barren walls. Then, the numbness ebbed away and she cried.

-Many thanks to Peetz for beta-reading!

Special thanks to Roentgen for allowing me to write stories set in his "The Hallowed Halls of Fielding" world, and to Ognawk for letting me use his "The Great and the Good" characters.


	6. V

Ethan pulled the red tie around his neck, incoherently mumbling curse words as he did so. When the job was done, he looked at himself in front of his mirror: the uniform fit well enough. It was his first time wearing it, and while he admitted it was fairly comfortable, he felt naked without his suit.

"It'll have to do for the time being," he reassured himself.

XXXX

Michelle tapped the tip of her cane against Karis's door. "Karis! Karis, you in there?"

Another boarder passed by. "Hi Michelle!" she squeaked happily.

The ASP uncomfortably raised her hand in greeting, not in the mood for this. "Hi Utada. Hey, you didn't happen to see Karis, did you?"

"MmmmmmmmYEAH! She was going over to the library, I think."

"Thanks," Michelle said. She put her cane forward and immediately started down the hallway. _I have to fix this,_ she thought.

XXXX

"For the last time, mom, I don't want to come home!" Wehrung shouted into the phone.

Over the other line, his mother seethed with anger. "You will not shout at me like that! I've done too much for you to get shouted at like that!"

He took a few small breaths, trying to calm down. After a moment, he said, "Okay, okay, I'm calm."

Someone behind him went, "Ahem." Wehrung turned to see a line of about three people waiting to use the pay-phone he was at. "Hurry up," said the boy at the front. Wehrung waved at him to go away.

"Sorry mom?" he said. "I didn't catch that last bit."

He heard her sigh. "You have to understand, honey, that I'm your best friend in the world. I'm just trying to do what's best for you."

"Mom, pulling me out of Fielding is not the best thing for me."

"You've already lost an eye, I just don't want you to lose your life!"

He spoke a little more quietly. "It was just a paint-ball gun!"

"I don't care! I'm really worried about you, Alex."

"Don't be, mom," he said. He wanted to tell her what he knew, but he never knew if someone was eavesdropping…..or if someone had bugged the phones. With two radar vans now sitting in the parking lot, he wouldn't be surprised. "I'm sure it was isolated incident."

There was a pause. "Okay," she capitulated, making Wehrung giddy instantly. "But," she said sharply, immediately causing him to stop and gulp, "If I hear anything about you getting hurt by someone else, I'm pulling you out immediately. I don't care if someone poked you, you're out. You follow me?"

"Sure thing," he said. "Bye, mom. Love you."

"Love you too."

He hung up. The next boy in line said to him as he walked away, "She letting you stay?"

"Yup."

"Lucky." The boy sighed and slipped a quarter through the slot.

XXXX

"Hey, Michelle," said Gage as she pulled open the library door.

"Oh, hey," she said. "What are you here for?"

"Karis, I saw her come in. I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but you look like you've got something good to say."

"Yeah," she said sarcastically. "Hey Karis, sorry you were assaulted by other members of the student body. You feeling better?"

"Yeesh, Michelle, it wasn't our fault that that happened." He peered at her forehead. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Not better, if that's what you were expecting. My hair still smells like eggs. I hate eggs. With a passion." She frowned. "What were you planning to say to her, anyway?"

"Not much, I just wanted to make sure she was okay."

"Me too. Let's go find her."

They walked inside. "I'll go find Ash," Gage said.

Michelle nodded. "I'll be here," she said. She sat down at a nearby table and picked up a nearby magazine.

Gage found Ashley Winters picking up a pile books off the floor. "Hey, Ash," he said. "Need any help?"

"Sure, that'd be nice," he groaned as he picked up three textbooks at once and shoved them back into place.

As they hefted more books back onto the shelves together, Ashley said, "Hey, you hear that the school's buying metal detectors?"

"No, I didn't," Gage said, impressed, but feeling a guilty sense of pride and gut-wrenching shame at the same time.

"Yeah, pre-emptive measures, or something like that."

"Stupid. Hey, by the way Ash, you haven't happened to've seen a girl with red hair and white eyes, have you?"

"Karis Chapman?"

"Yeah, you met her?"

"Once. I think I saw her pick up something from the psychology section."

"Okay, thanks I app…..psychology?"

"Yup."

_She couldn't have figured…._ "Ah, okay, thanks Ash."

"No problem, Gage."

As he went back to Michelle, he thought, _Either Karis is more insightful than I thought, or someone let something slip. Hope this doesn't end up exploding in our faces. _

Michelle looked up at him before he even got there. "Hey."

"How'd you know it was me?"

"You shuffle."

"Oh. Well, I guess Karis is over by the psych section."

Michelle suddenly became worried. "Did he say why?"

"No."

"Well, let's go find her."

After weaving through several halls of shelves, they found Karis sitting in between the psychology and physiology sections, a large book in her lap. Her eyes darted all over the place as she tried to read it. She looked up. "Hey," she said. Her voice was tired and worn.

Gage gave a meek wave. "How you doing?"

"Not good," she said.

"We were kinda worried about you," Michelle said.

Karis sniffed. "Only kinda, huh?" She turned her eyes back to her book, but after a moment, softly pushed it away from her.

"Whatcha reading?" Gage asked.

She waved her hand at the book. "See for yourself."

Gage put on his glasses and picked up the book. "Understanding Autsim," he read out loud. He glanced at Michelle, whose head was bowed.

"I'm not stupid," Karis said. "Michelle and Jack both told me they had Aspergers. You were both at that tall guy's room yesterday. And from what I've read, people who have it really suck at recognizing social cues and take up specialized obsessions. I think that describes me pretty well." She looked up at Gage. "You're the tailor guy, right?"

He nodded.

"How long have you been fooling with clothing?"

"Since I was four."

She nodded herself, her suspicions confirmed. "You guys run some sort of club for people with Aspergers, don't you."

Gage looked behind them, to make sure that nobody was around to hear them. "No one here but us," he whispered to Michelle, who had looked momentarily worried.

Kneeling, Michelle whispered to Karis in as serious a tone as she could muster. "We're very secretive, so I'd appreciate if you didn't tell anyone about us. But yeah, we're an Asperger's exclusive club. We're called the ASPS."

Karis laughed softly. "Seriously?" she scoffed.

"Wasn't my idea of a name," Michelle continued. "You probably already know this, but that whole paintball thing was us."

"I figured that." She frowned. "Tell me something. Did you only want to talk to me before because you were actually interested about me, or because I have this…..condition?" Her eyes narrowed. "Did you already know?"

"No," Gage lied. "Elizabeth told us; she's really good at recognizing that kind of stuff."

"Oh."

Michelle sat down across from Karis, folding her cane into her lap. "I really wanted to get to know you, Karis," she said. And that was not a lie. "We're really supportive people. Most of us. Me and Wehrung really do want to learn more about you. Hey, sometime, you want to come to a meeting later today, so we can learn more about you?"

Karis thought about it. _I've always known I was different. Just not this different. But these are people kinda like me. And they're not exactly in common supply._

"What does your club do?" she asked.

Michelle and Gage told her everything.

XXXX

Ethan answered the knocking at his door. Opening it, he thought for a moment he had been ding-dong-ditched, because there wasn't anyone there. But looking down, he saw Karis Chapman looking up at him with guarded skepticism. Gage and Michelle stood behind her.

Acting though this was nothing new, he beckoned them inside. But as Karis passed by, he extended his hand for her to shake. "Glad you're here," he said.  
"Thanks," she said. "But I just want to see what you guys do first, no promises."

He nodded politely.

So the four talked for the rest of the day. Karis described to them her feelings of isolation, her fear of interaction, her hopes and desires. Michelle and Gage were receptive and insightful. Ethan spoke up only on occasion, knowing full well he could easily make her feel awkward.

Wehrung later showed up. His terrible jokes allowed the others to politely poke fun at him, and he laughed along. Slowly but steadily, Karis started to feel welcome.

The next day, she went to another meeting. Then another the next day. Than another. By the seventh day, Ethan was waiting for her by his door. He held out the solid gold pin in his hand. She took it gingerly.

"Karis Chapman," he said, giving as warm a smile as he could manage without looking even creepier, "I want to formally congratulate you.

"Welcome to the ASPS."


	7. Damsels in Distress

Wehrung shrugged his leather jacket over his shoulders as he left the barber shop so the abnormally cool summer air would not bother him. He stroked his newly-shaven cheeks and chin, satisfied at his barber's work. "I could get used to this," he said nobody in particular.

"You certainly look a lot less ragged." Wehrung jumped: both Ethan and Gage were sitting on a nearby stone bench. They were both dressed in black shirts and jeans, but Ethan wore a polo and Gage had a Depeche Mode shirt on. Gage was nodding his approval at Wehrung's sheared face. He continued, "You don't look like some old sot anymore."

"Did I look like an old sot?" He thought about for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "Mm, guess I did." Then, realization hit him. "Hey, how did you know I was here?"

"Oh, I heard something from Smith" said Ethan, "Who heard it from Elizabeth, who heard it from your sister, who heard that your mother called you and said she'd throw out all your Star Wars action figures unless you got a haircut."

Wehrung flushed. Noticing his obvious discomfort, Gage nudged Ethan. "Not cool, dude. Very uncool."

"Mm. Well anyways, Wehrung, we came by to collect you for what is apparently called a 'Guys Night Out,'" Ethan explained. His clicked his tongue in distaste. "But I'll just call it an outing, for the sake of personal preference. Michelle, Karis, and Dylan all went on their own night out, and they encouraged us both to find you and go for our own night out."

"There's a new video store down on Dega," Gage said. "And the bride of Frankenstein here is making him give us both a hundred bucks."

Wehrung's eye bugged out, which drew a chuckle from Gage. "A hundred?!"

"Yes," Ethan confirmed. He reluctantly withdrew two bills from his pocket. "Each one is from the monthly allowance my father gives to me. So don't let me find that you've spent it all on something stupid, like a telescope or something."

"Or we could just save it," Gage said. He tenderly took the bill and folded it into his pants pocket. "Use it for something important. You never know, you know?"

Wehrung's excited expression suddenly faded. "Yeah, he has a point," he reluctantly admitted. "I mean, sophomore year is coming up. Gotta be prepared, and stuff like that."

"Mm," Ethan mumbled. "You are both wise. But fortunately, I am not." He withdrew another couple hundred dollars from his pocket.

"That's your whole allowance?!" Gage exclaimed with incredulation. "You have enough money there to buy Underhill!"

"I'd lie and say I stole it all from Bentley, just to be impressive," Ethan said, "But the truth is, I've been saving this for the past two weeks…" He didn't notice Wehrung's half amazed, half appalled face, "And I decided that we ought to do something big. Summer is coming to a close, my friends." _And I have to move to that California soon…..no, I can't tell them._ "So I say for once, we do something reckless, something stupid."

"I thought we'd been doing that for the past year," Gage said. "You know, dumping slime on the Tops, bombing teachers with flour-mines, sticking around you…"

"I'm flattered, Thystun," Ethan said flatly. "But no, that's not what I had in mind." He told them his plan.

"Are you insane?" Wehrung scoffed. "No way, no how, nuh uh, there's no way I'm doing that."

"I agree with Alex," Gage said, "That's too…..I don't even know how to describe it. No. Just no."

"Please?"

It took a moment for Wehrung and Gage to realize that word had come from Ethan's mouth. "I'm sorry," Wehrung said, not believing his protruding ears, "Did you just use the P-word?"

"Yes, Wehrung, I said please." Ethan looked at them both pleadingly. "Just hear me out, let me make my case for why I want to do this. No, it's not that, I HAVE to do this. Will you hear me out?"

Gage and Wehrung exchanged glances. They each exhaled. "Fine," Gage said. "Make your case…"

**One Day Later**

_I wonder why the guys haven't called us lately?_ Karis wondered. She pulled another fuzzy Weebit off its counter. She looked to her left. "This one looks cute, Michelle!"

"I wouldn't know," she said. "But can I touch it? What is it?"

"A panda," she said as she handed the stuffed toy over.

"Aw, it's soooo fuzzy!" she giggled happily, giving it a squeeze.

Dylan gave a somewhat bemused stare from the other side of the shelf. "Is she always like this when she's around stuffed toys?" she asked Karis.

"I don't know," Karis sheepishly admitted. "We've only known each other for around a month now."

"Oh, never mind then." Dylan ran her hand through her short layer of newly-grown hair as she looked over the plentiful choices of Weebitz. "Hm….." She pulled down a big red teddy bear. "This ought to make my favorite Dressler get all flustered," she smirked.

"A red teddy bear?" Karis frowned. "I have a question: do you two only just like to annoy each other?"

"It's one of the many things we like to do," Dylan grinned. "Along with sending each other intentionally bad poetry, analyzing the behavior of TV characters, and the occasional S&M."

Michelle and Karis both became red-faced and tried not to look uncomfortable, although it was obviously not working. Dylan laughed. "I was only kidding. Jeez, any mention of sex and you all turn as red as this bear. Besides, can either of you imagine Ethan being physically intimate, at all? Because I sure as hell can't."

"I don't want to imagine it, _at all_," Michelle reciprocated, while Karis pretended to gag. "It's bad enough being blind, I'd really rather not burn out my own brain."

"Let's get off the subject," Karis said.

"Whatcha want to talk about, then?" Dylan asked.

"Hm...how about life after school?"

"Sure," said Michelle. "Let's just buy our Weebitz first."

After they had made their purchases, they started on their way back to Fielding. "Me personally," Karis said, "I want to go back to England, get into politics."

"Why's that?" Dylan asked. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you guys have better policies than we do, but just why? It's tedious."

"To make a difference, I guess," Karis said. "I want to make an actual difference. And…...well, that's it I guess. You guys?"

"Voice acting or martial arts teacher for the blind," said Michelle. She stabbed at the air with her cane. "The first one because it's fun, the second so I can leave my mark of bad-assery on the world."

"Did you take martial arts?" Karis asked.

"Believe it or not, there was actually a karate teacher in Bangor who would teach the blind," Michelle said. "He was pretty expensive, though. But eventually, I started kicking the collective asses of the sighted. Only if they irked me, of course," she said, grinning evilly. She gave her cane a twirl. "You, Dylan?"

"Me?" Dylan said, "I want to-" she paused when her cell phone rang. "Hold up, guys." She flipped it open. "Hello? Hey, where…..WHAT?!" The sharp crack of her voice made Karis and Michelle jump. "You did what?! You're where?! What?! Why?! YOU ABSOLUTE GODDAMN IDIOT! NO, I WON'T KEEP MY VOICE DOWN!"

"Ethan?" Karis postulated.

"Ethan," Michelle agreed.

"Where are you now? Are you all okay? Oh, thank god. You want me to what? You're kidding, me right? It'll take me at least a day to….ugh, fine. When I get there, you better have an apology written on your flipping forehead! In ink, mister! In blood-red ink! Okay? Okay! Goodbye!" She shut her phone and groaned.

"What happened?" Michelle asked, very concerned.

Dylan rubbed at her eyes. "Ethan took Gage and Alex on a plane to visit an old friend of his, as I guess you could call him."

"Who?"

"His name's Abishek…..ugh," she moaned, rubbing her temples. "I can't talk about it now, I need to get packing-"

"Where are they?" Karis pressed.


	8. Idiot Savant

"Ladies and gentlemen, we'll be descending into Albuquerque, New Mexico in two minutes. Please fasten your seat belts, and welcome to the Land of Enchantment."

Dylan huffed. "If it were so enchanting, there wouldn't be nearly as many people trying to get out."

"I'm sure there at least a few merits," Karis said, a pair of reflective sunglasses hanging on her nose.

"Well, it does have a few in terms of history," Dylan admitted. "Santa Fe is the oldest capital city in the country. And...you know what, I think that's about it, actually."

"Can we get back on topic, please?" Michelle said. The phone built into the back of the plane's seat was resting in her lap. She handed it to Dylan. "Can you try calling them again?"

Dylan took it and dialed. Michelle whispered to Karis, "If any of their parents find out where they are, this is going to get messy."

"That'll be the least of their problems. Especially Ethan's." Michelle tapped her index finger against the hilt of her cane. "I intend to give him a whooping for this catastrophe he's dragged us all into."

"I got him!" Dylan exclaimed.

"Who?" Karis asked.

"Ethan. Kid, you all right? What? Can you hear me? What do you mean, hold on to-"

Suddenly, the pilot's panicked voice blared to life. "Everyone hold on!" The passengers erupted into screams as the plane tilted and began turning left. This lasted for around ten seconds before the plane leveled off. "I'm sorry about that, everyone," the pilot said. "But you won't believe what I just saw..."

XXXX

Ethan stood in the basket of a bright-red hot-air balloon, napkins stuffed into his ears. He watched as the plane, heading straight towards him, turned to swerve around him. It was far away enough that the blare of the jet engines did not damage his hearing.

"Where'd you learn to fly? Pilotwings?" he roared at the plane. As it passed, he looked down and realized he'd dropped the cell-phone. Ethan cursed it, as well as himself for what must have been the fiftieth time in the past hour for never learning how to fly a balloon.

XXXX

Tamam Abishek heard the doorbell ring from his living room couch. "Who's that?" his little sister, Mariam, wondered out loud as she played with her dolls on the floor.

"No idea," he replied. "I'll check." He jumped off the sofa and walked over to the front door. "Hello?" he said loudly. There was no reply. "Hello?" he said again.

"Federal Express delivery," came a monotonous, sardonic voice. Tamam was so shocked to hear that voice that he couldn't help throw the door open. He immediately regretted it.

Ethan stood before him, his paintball gun pointed at his face. "Come outside," his face a mask. "I want to talk."

"Tammy?" his sister called, not looking up from her toys. "Who is it?"

"Nothing, Mary," he returned quickly. "Just someone from school. I'm gonna be outside for a minute, all right?"

"Okay!" she exclaimed cheerfully. Tamam walked outside, quietly shutting the door behind him.

XXXX

Down the street, near a local plaza, Gage watched the entire thing from a pair of binoculars. "We're going to get into so much trouble," Wehrung bemoaned.

Gage ignored him. "They're talking."

"About what?"

Giving him a look, Gage said, "How am I supposed to know?"

"Well, can't you, like, tell from their facial expressions?"

"Ah, no."

"Jeez, just checking."

Looking back at Ethan and Abishek, Gage saw that Ethan had lowered the paintball gun, but Ethan's face was contorted into an angry sneer. It looked like he was trying his hardest not to lose his temper. After another minute, he stopped talking. Then, without warning, Tamam broke into a screaming rage.

Gage paled. "Oh crap."

XXXX

**One Day Later**

"Ah, home," Dylan bemoaned as she, Michelle, and Karis walked outside from the Albuquerque Sun airport. She sighed. "I wish it didn't have to be so soon."

Michelle felt her cane hit something. That something went _ow_. "Sorry Karis," Michelle apologized. "So, Dylan, this is your city, where do we go?"

"For starters, we have to go and rendezvous with Alex and Gage. If they are where I think they are, they'll be up in Sandia Heights, which will be a simple drive from here. We need to get a cab though. I'll wave one down."

A few minutes later, the three were heading towards the Dressler summer home. Karis looked out the window. "Lot of pawn shops," she remarked. "And lawyer advertisements."

"It does look a little skeevy. Funny thing is, the farther north you go, the nicer it gets," Dylan said. "Although I personally don't like going up the Sandias."

"Afraid of heights?" Michelle asked.

"Not anymore. Nowadays, I can't go too high without suffering an asthma attack. My lungs are still trying to recover from my recovery. So since I live at the altitude I do, I keep an inhaler around." She withdrew one from her pocket and gently placed it in Michelle's hand. Michelle examined it briefly before returning it.

"Hey, Dylan," Karis said.

"Yeah?"

"Do your parents know you're here?"

"No."

"...you want to tell them?"

"I don't feel like it."

"...all right."

The driver entered a cul-de-sac. Dylan paid the driver, and the three got out.

The Dressler residence was the left-most house. It was a one-story adobe house with a decently-sized front courtyard. They were a few feet from the door when a small window, built into the door itself, opened up. Wehrung's face appeared. "Hey!" he exclaimed. He opened the door and let the three girls inside. "How did you know how to get here? How did you even know we were here at all?"

"How did you not think to even call us to tell us what the hell happened?!" Michelle shouted incredulously. "It didn't ever occur to you?! Huh?"

Michelle didn't see it, but Wehrung shrank back like a kicked puppy. "S-sorry. Ethan threatened me-"

"I'm sorry to interrupt the current hostilities," Karis interjected, "But why are you dressed like a Jedi?"

"He's what?" said Michelle.

Dylan tried not to laugh. "He's dressed up in Jedi robes."

Gage appeared from the kitchen, where he been pouring some water and handed a few glasses to them all. He was also dressed as a Jedi. "Stuff….er, came up, is how I'd put it," he said uncertainly.

"Well, never mind that," Dylan said, shaking her head. "Where's Ethan? I need to kick his ass."

Wehrung and Gage exchanged looks. "See, ah, that's the thing…" Wehrung said in a careful tone, trying to look as concerned as possible, which wasn't hard, as he was quite afraid of being the bearer of bad news. "We don't know where he is."

Dylan's expression turned furious, but she composed herself. Through gritted her teeth, she went, "Explain."

"We tried calling him," Gage insisted. "Several times. And we did reach him, asked him where he was, but he kept telling us to not bother. And a few hours ago we lost him, couldn't get in touch with him at all."

Her face turning pale, Dylan said, "So did I."

"Guys," Karis said, "Would you mind telling us what the heck happened with you three over the past couple of days?"

Gage bit his lip. "Sure, but…...I'm not sure you'll find it entirely plausible."

XXXX

**One Day Earlier**

"You organized twenty students to lie," Ethan snarled at Tamam as he kept the paintball gun pointed at his face, "Lie about what happened at La Cueva. You got me expelled."

"You practically tried to kill me!" Tamam cried. He turned his head to the side to indicate the three, claw-like scars that ran down the side of his face. "Do you know what they call me at the Academy, now, because of my face? Huh? Do you know the kind of crap I have to put up with?!"

"It was your own fault. If you hadn't insulted Dylan-"

"Who are YOU to fight your girlfriend's damn battles? Did she even ask for this to happen to me?"

Ethan did not speak. Tamam said, "Yeah, I thought. I'd say you brought it on yourself, Ethan. It wasn't hard to get everyone to organize for it. I had about another thirty people volunteer to give crap to the admins, but I didn't want it to look suspicious."

_POP!_ Tamam cried out in pain; Ethan had shot his leg. "Smart, Abishek, I'll give you that. Restraint is always smart. Therefore, permit me to be stupid." He shot Tamam's other leg and then shot him another three times in the chest. Tamam cried out in pain and muttered a curse word at Ethan, who leaned over him, sneering. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"You….are…..in such deep crap."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"I invited Roy over for lunch a half-hour ago."

Ethan paled; Roy was Tamam's best friend, and was known to be able to bench-press over three hundred pounds and wasn't fooled easily. He was one of the few people Ethan actually feared. He also drove a dark purple SAAB, the same one that was driving down the street at that very moment. Ethan turned on his heel and ran.

"Moron," Tamam muttered.

Ethan bolted to the car. He threw open the door and hopped into the passenger's seat. "Floor it, Gage! Gage?" When the car did not move, Ethan finally looked to his left and saw that both Gage and Wehrung were gone. "Oh god." He looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the purple SAAB bearing down on him. Without a second thought he put the car into drive and sped off around the corner, narrowly hitting a bus that had to swerve to avoid him.

XXXX

**Five Minutes Earlier**

"What do you think they're screaming about now?" Gage said as he watched the heated exchange between Tamam and Ethan.

Wehrung's single eye squinted, struggling to get a clear picture. "Maybe they're arguing," he said.

Gage gave him a bemused look. "Well, they certainly aren't talking about how nice the weather is….and what are you looking at?"

For the past three minutes, Wehrung had been staring out the car's rear window at a group of people that were crowded around a bus. They were all wearing funky costumes. "I think they're Trekkies or something….I swear that someone said live long and prosper or something."

"Uh, dude, I think we have bigger prob-HEY!" Gage cried out in indignation and annoyance as his companion snatched the binoculars from him. "I need those!"

Wehrung put the binoculars up to his eye. He had not looked at the group for more than two seconds before he dashed out of the car and started charging across the street. "Wehrung! Alex! Damn it!" He jumped out of the car and set off in pursuit. "Get back here!"

The one-eyed ASP ran up to the costumed people, and as Gage caught up he could see why: they were all dressed up in Star Wars costumes. Someone even handed Wehrung a toy lightsaber. His face lit up in childish delight as he swung the plastic blade around. Putting his hand on Wehrung shoulder, Gage said, "Hey man, I know you love these movies, but we have to make sure Ethan doesn't-"

"He can take care of himself," Wehrung said. He twirled the saber in his hand. "Wanna try?" he asked.

"Dude, we gotta-"

"Gage, calm down. Have a little fun! These guys are going to the fun center for laser tag!"

Gage bit his lip; he did like laser tag, more than he cared to admit. "We owe it to Ethan-"

"We owe him nada." Wehrung gave Gage a hard look. "He made us come here just to be his valets. He has a paintball gun, and a phone. He'll be fine."

"Hey!" A heavyset woman who looked a few years older than the ASPS, dressed as a stormtrooper approached them. "You two Star Wars buffs?"

"Yeah!" Wehrung exclaimed excitedly. Gage managed a nervous nod.

"You two wanna come with us to the laser tag session?"

"YEAH!"

"..." Gage looked from across the street to where Ethan was, to Wehrung, from Ethan, and back to Wehrung again. From the vengeance-seeking, manipulative, possibly-sociopathic rich boy, to the boy who looked almost looked too innocent to say no to. Crap. He looked to the woman. "Yeah sure, we'll come with."

Wehrung made a fist-pump. The woman smiled. "Cool!" She extended her hand, which the ASPS shook. "I'm Denise, by the way. I run the ABQSW club."

"Sign me up!" Wehrung exclaimed immediately.

"But you don't even live here," Gage reminded him.

"So?"

"You'll have to sign up a bit later," Denise said. She turned to the rest of the cosplayers. "ALL RIGHT EVERYONE! TO THE CONVENTION CENTER! EVERYONE ON THE BUS!"

There were collective cheers. Gage somewhat reluctantly Wehrung as he excitedly bounded on-board the bus. Someone handed them both Jedi robes as they boarded.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Gage muttered as the bus drove away.

Suddenly, the bus swerved. There were cries of shock and surprise as the riders were thrown to the side. "Sorry everyone!" the drive called back. "Some idiot started barrelling towards me."

"Idiot," Wehrung grumbled.

XXXX

**One Day Later**

"So you just abandoned him?!" Dylan's eye was dangerously twitching as she restrained herself from not beating Wehrung with her cane.

"Um…..yeah, I'm really sorry!" Wehrung said. He shrank back from the looks the girls were giving him.

"And you!" Gage almost jumped when Dylan addressed him. "Why didn't you stay with Ethan?"

Gage desperately racked his brain for a good answer, but he gave up. Shrugging, he said, "It was Star Wars or Ethan's own dangerous revenge quest. I didn't want to abandon him, but c'mon, you gotta admit it was all pretty extreme. And I had to make sure Wehrung didn't get lost."

"Hey!"

"So," inquired Karis, another lover of sci-fi, "Where'd you two go next?"

Wehrung was eager to explain. "Well, first we went to the Saturn Cafe-"

"Guys," Michelle interjected, "I'd like to remind you that we have to go find Dracula. God knows where he is!"

"But we've tried getting in touch with him," Gage said. He showed them his cell phone. "I keep getting 'no reception' when I try his phone, and just that phone."

"We can go look for him," Wehrung meekly noted. "How many of us can drive?"

Only Gage raised his hand.

"Let's call the police," Karis said.

"What can they do at this point?" sighed Dylan. "They'd just make everything more complicated. And if they did find Ethan, they'd question him. He'd be arrested for what he did to Tamam."

"Well, maybe we should ask him," Karis said. "He might know what happened."

"You want to go and question one of Ethan's sworn enemies?" scoffed Wehrung. "That's a really bad idea."

Karis looked downcast, earning Wehrung a look from Gage and Michelle. "Sorry," he said.

"Just shut up," Gage said.

"Actually Karis, I think that is a pretty good idea," Dylan said. She turned to Gage again. "Could you drive me to his house?"

"Yeah."

"Then let's go."

XXXX

Roy put an ice pack on his left eye, wincing as he did so. "The little prick is quick, I'll give him that," he said to Tamam. "My eye still hurts, and its been a whole day, goddammit."

"And you're sure you don't know where he went to?" Tamam swallowed. "What if the dude gets hurt? You can get into deep crap, man."

"He was the one attacking you," Roy reminded him. "I was just being defensive-"

_DING DONG_. They both started when the doorbell rang. Without hesitation, Tamam grabbed the poker from his fireplace and cautiously approached the door as if it were in danger of exploding. He peeked through the peep-hole, and slowly opened the door, still holding the tire iron.

"Hey Louise," he said. "Did you kno-"

"First off," Dylan said, her face red, "Never, _ever_ say that name. And secondly, yes, I know that Ethan, ah, paid you a visit. I swear, I didn't know he was going to do this to you, Tamam, I'm really sorry."

"I know," he said. "So why are you here?"

"I'm trying to find him, so I can duly punish him."

Tamam waved his friend over. "Roy chased him off."

"Well," Roy said, "It turned out he was leading me off. We got to the airfield, you know, the one where you can rent balloons? He got out of his car, I got out of mine. Well, you know your boyfriend isn't a fair fighter. He kneed me in the balls and got me in the eye."

"Did you say balloons?" Albuquerque was reputed for its annual Balloon Festival, in which hundreds of hot-air balloons were released. People from all over the world came to see it. Ballooning was a popular leisure activity in Albuquerque, mostly because it was one of the few available.

"Yeah. I think he ran off in one, because, well, I was wearing a cup."

Tamam arched an eyebrow. "You wear a cup all the time?"

"Hey man, you never know. And look at what happened!"

Dylan suddenly became very pale. "Ethan has been up in a hot air balloon for two days?!"

Tamam and Roy both paled too. All sympathies gone, Dylan said in a low, ominous tone, "I swear to god, if anything's happened to him, I will personally beat you both to death with this cane."

They had both just swallowed nervously when Dylan heard her cell phone ring. She withdrew it from her pocket and flipped it open.

"Hello? Yeah?" Then her eyes almost bugged out of her head. "You're where? I'm coming right now!"

XXXX

"Agh, finally," Ethan groaned as the balloon began to descend toward Sandia Heights. "I hope I don't land in the middle of the freeway," he said to no one in particular. "That would procure some rather messy results."

After punching Roy in the eye, Ethan had found the first hot-air balloon prepped to launch, gave the man in charge of it a hundred dollars, and took off. It was very satisfactory to see Roy screaming at him like a wild animal, but when he realized he had no idea how to fly a balloon, Ethan felt rather foolish. He knew that he could call someone to help him get down, but decided he'd rather find out himself how to fly the balloon. But in case it ever went south, he decided that it was necessary to call Dylan and tell her what he was.

"I made a huge mistake," he would later admit. As he got hungrier and thirstier, he felt more and more foolish. Eventually, he found out how to make the balloon descend, and even how to steer it. And how he was heading home. But when he realized he had overshot his house and was heading towards the highway, Ethan added some more gas. He was so close to the ground that he could see people pointing at him and shouting.

He turned to see where he would be crashing; a soft landing was probably out of the question. Thankfully, it was in a cul-de-sac, and not someone else's house. Ethan turned off the gas and braced for impact.

The wicker basket hit the asphalt hard, causing the whole balloon to twist, throwing Ethan out. He landed on his left shoulder and groaned from the ensuing pain. He cursed several times before standing shakily to his feet.

"Hey, Ethan."

Ethan looked up; he recognized a former classmate from the academy, the blue-haired Delia Volckaert. He held up his hand. "Hello."

She craned her neck as though his towering frame was capable of hiding the balloon. "Any reason you have a hot-air balloon there?"

"A good one, and I'll be happy to explain on the ride back to my house, which I was hoping you could give me before the police show up."

She wrinkled her nose. "Well…" she looked at her watch and sighed. "Why the hell not, I have nothing better to do."

"Thanks. And by the way, do you have a cell phone I could borrow? I need to make a call."

XXXX

Still rubbing his hurt shoulder, Ethan inserted the key into the lock of his home's front door and he stepped inside, where Gage, Wehrung, and Karis all started at the sight of him, whereas Michelle started from their surprised cries.

"You son of a bitch!" Wehrung shouted. He sprang up and angrily advanced on Ethan. "Your girlfriend almost butchered me alive!"

"You seem to be in one piece, so why are you complaining?" Ethan frowned.

"Well, you scared us all," Karis explained matter-of-factly. "We didn't know where you were, or if you were okay."

The door flew open again, and Dylan limped inside.

"Hello," Ethan smiled as Dylan walked up to him. "You made AGH!" The wind was blown out of him as her cane came and hit him between the legs. Ordinarily, Dylan would never have aimed there, but in cases like this, exceptions had to be made.

"You complete, utter, idiotic moron!" she shouted, not in a high tone, but a threatening one that sent shivers up the spines of the other ASPS. "What were you thinking?! Were you even thinking at all? Christ Ethan, you have an IQ of a hundred and seventy, and this is what you came up with?!"

He shakily got to his feet and stared at Dylan with cold, furious eyes. "What I did had nothing to do with intelligence. It was revenge, and just revenge. Abishek deserved it for what he said to you-"

"You have no goddamn authority, or right for that matter, to fight my fights! He apologized, I forgave him. It was a stupid slight! And for that you went cross-country just to shoot him with a fricking paintball gun! AND you dragged Alex and Gage with you to boot!" She glared at him furiously, then her shoulders sagged tiredly. Dylan let out a pained breath and took off her glasses to rub her eyes. "Ethan, this kind of crazy crap has to stop." She gestured to Michelle, Wehrung, Gage, and Karis. "Apologize to the rest of us, then you're going to go and apologize to Tamam. And after that, you're not going to come up with insane schemes like this ever again."

"Make me," he said without hesitation.

She looked at him as though he'd just punched her in the stomach. "Pardon?"

"Wehrung and Harris knew what they were getting into, I never forced them to come with me. And I wanted to do what I did to Abishek for myself as well. I apologize for upsetting you, Dylan. But to everyone else I owe no apology. And I don't regret what I did."

Looking at him, appalled and disgusted, Dylan shook her head. "You know what? I'm going home, I'm not even bothering to come back to Lawndale. I'm done dealing with this crap." She looked over to Michelle and Karis. "Sorry guys."

"It's okay," Karis said, although she looked somewhat disappointed.

"No, it's not," Michelle said. She stood up from where she had been sitting. "Ethan, where are you?"

When he did not speak up, Wehrung pinched Ethan's shoulder. "Agh!" went Ethan, slapping Wehrung's hand away. Michelle walked up to him, and looked up into where she assumed his face was. He stared back at her.

"If you do anything like this ever, and I mean EVER again…" she beckoned him to lean closer towards her mouth. He angled his ear up alongside it. Michelle whispered a few short sentences. Ethan's face became very pale, and the skin under one yellow eye twitched.

"Clear?" she asked.

Swallowing, he said yes.

XXXX

"Well," said Wehrung as he helped Gage and Michelle heft their bags into the luggage compartments above their heads, "I'm not sure what I would call this trip. I think 'completely ludicrous' is the phrase I'm looking for. What about you two?"

"I'd really rather have not come at all," Michelle said.

"I have to admit, the pizza the Jedi gave us was pretty good," said Gage. "So there's that." Wehrung laughed at that, and Gage smiled back.

Back in the terminal, Karis waited while Ethan and Dylan said their goodbyes. She kept checking her watch nervously.

"Again, Dylan, I'm sorry-"

"Ethan. Stop it. Apologizing doesn't give you a get-out-of-jail-free card. I want you to prove to me you can learn from your mistakes. All right?"

"Uh huh."

"Ethan…"

"Yes, Dylan."

"All right."

Karis tapped her foot against the linoleum floor in a steady metronome pattern. She glanced at the two again, but saw Dylan was gone. Ethan walked over to her.

"Sorry," he said nonchalantly.

"It's okay," she said. But it wasn't okay, not to her. Often, Karis wondered how the other three put up with him.

Once the five of them were on the plane, they took their seats. Gage had been seated next to Karis, while Wehrung, Michelle, and Ethan all sat together.

"Hey, Karis," Gage said.

"Oui?"

"Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"Non."

"Why'd you come? I mean, frankly, I don't think you care much for Blackadder over there."

"Huh…" Karis realized that it was true that she didn't travel all the way to New Mexico just for Ethan. "Well, you were all in trouble. I wanted to make sure you were all okay."

Gage smiled sligtly. "That's it, huh?"

She nodded. "Oui."

"Well, thank you."

She smiled back. "Sure."

A few rows ahead, Wehrung looked at Ethan, but said nothing. Michelle would occasionally crane her ear to Ethan, but heard nothing. And on the entire plane ride back to Lawndale, Ethan did not stop staring out the window.

-With thanks to Roentgen for beta-reading!


	9. Five to Four

In the dead of a warm summer night, a wraith-like figure strode over to Warville on light feet, his hands in his pockets. He wore a dark-red business suit, grey vest, and a midnight-blue tie. His hair was gelled and heavily spiked, causing his head to somewhat resemble a porcupine. His yellow eyes flecked with traces of red reflected the moonlight.

Using a borrowed key, he quietly opened the Warville's front door and tip-toed his way inside. He withdrew a flash-light from his pocket and began scanning the hallways for the right room. When he found it, he lightly rapped the knuckles of his fingers against the door. It opened. The visitor smirked at the surprised reaction written on Ethan's face. "Edric," the ASP blurted out.

His older brother flourished, causing Ethan to roll his eyes. "The one and only!" his older brother laughed.

Ethan's eyes scanned Edric up and down. "Why on earth," he said in a tone of barely-disguised contempt, "Are you dressed like that?"

"You mean, like you?" Edric pulled on his cuff-links and smirked. "Girls like the fancy look, little brother."

"And thus, the implication of the profoundness of your pockets," Ethan retorted.

"That goes without saying." Edric reached into his pocket and withdrew an actual pocket watch. Ethan rolled his eyes again. "So," Edric said, putting the watch away, "You all packed up and ready to go?"

"I am." Ethan hefted a duffel bag and his school bag onto his shoulders. "I don't suppose you're going to help me with these."

"Nope! Let's go. Or do you need to give your room one last look, kiss the walls have a nice, good cry?" His ever-present, mischevious smile irritated his little brother greatly: The look Ethan gave him could shatter entire walls.

"Lead the way, you effeminate thespian," he said.

Edric pouted his lip. "How dare you! I'm a TALENTED effe-"

"GO, Edric," Ethan barked, louder than he intended. Down the hall, a door slowly creaked open. The brothers took that as their hint to leave. Huffing from the strain of his luggage, Ethan trailed behind his brother, who was only a mere six-foot but much more athletic. Once they were outside, Ethan had to stop to take a breath.

"I'm not going to have to carry you, am I?" Edric laughed. He received a very rude hand gesture as a response. "Suits me, little baby brother. Come on!" He took off on a swift trot, and Ethan, panting, went after him.

Once he had caught up to his brother, he asked, "How did you get here?"

"Lawndale or Fielding?"

Ethan was aghast. "Fielding is IN Lawndale, you realize that? There's an implication to-ACK." He nearly hissed as Edric playfully reached up and ran his head through his brother's messy hair: one of the few ways to get him to shut up.

"I flew in from Massachusetts, little brother. All by myself with the family jet, just to come see you!"

Ethan slapped his brother's hand away. "You're here to take me to the godforsaken bunghole of a school down in California."

This time, Edric had to roll his own eyes at his brother's bad attitude. "It's one of the top high schools in the country, Ethan." Ethan spat. "Spielberg graduated there!" Edric said with as much optimism as he could muster.

"Send him a bottle of wine, then," he grumbled.

Increasingly taken aback at Ethan's hostile tone of voice and the fact that he was averting his eyes, Edric asked, "Ethan, are you all right?"

"Do I sound all right to you?" His voice cracked. He coughed in a vain attempt to cover it up. Edric scurried in front of him and nearly gasped: Ethan was crying. He hadn't done that since he was four.

"Hey, little brother, it's okay-"

"Don't give me any bull, Edric, because it will not make me feel any better," Ethan said bitterly. He wiped his eyes. "Right now, I just want to focus on how I'm going to make the rest of Elizabeth's life absolutely miserable."

"It wasn't her decision to move-"

"She insisted! Constantly! She didn't consider what I wanted in this at all! She screwed me over just for a flipping wind band!" Elizabeth had reminded their parents numerous times of the superiority of Saratoga High School's band program to Fielding's.

"Oh, come on, little brother," Edric said, wrinkling his nose, "How many people have you screwed over to get what you want?"

His little brother gave his brother an angry stare, as if he were mad at Edric for calling out his hidden shame. He averted his gaze. "A lot," he reluctantly admitted. "And I admit some of my actions are impossible to describe as ethical." Then, the somber look in his eyes faded away. As he passed an acorn, he crushed it into a powder with his heel. "But that aside, I am still. Really. Angry."

He flinched when he felt his brother's hand on his shoulder. "You know, we're almost to the car," Edric noted in a gentle voice.

Ethan kept looking straight ahead. "And?"

"Well...do you want to go see any of them one last time? I don't mind waiting."

He did want to. Badly. Ethan felt an urge to walk to all of their doors and beg them for forgiveness, for being so callous to them, for involving them in his misdeeds, for never being as good a friend as he could have been.

"I've already said goodbye," he lied automatically. He shrugged his things onto a more comfortable position on his shoulders again. "Let's go."

Edric gave Ethan a look that was mixed with both sadness and fascination; he had never been able to understand his brother, and in this one instance in which he seemed almost human to him, he quickly assumed his icy demeanor. But he knew better than to press.

"All right. Let's get out of here."

"Wait." Ethan stopped to retrieve something from his pocket. "I just have to do one last thing before I go…...a farewell present….."

"What is it?"

Ethan dialed a number into the phone, then put it away. "Best to run."

With that, he sprinted for Edric's car: a bright pink Camaro (Edric had justified the choice of color as an anti-theft measure, but the rest of his family knew he did it so people would stop asking to carpool with him). Edric quickly caught up with his already-panting sibling and exclaimed, "What did you-"

Fielding's fire alarm went off. The high-pitched, droning alarm woke up every soul in Fielding in an instant.

"How the hell did you-"

"I seduced the officewoman," Ethan said sarcastically.

"Did you use protection?" Edric chuckled.

"Shut up." They hopped in the car, right as the new on-campus policemen sighted them. "Floor it, blood."

"You got it." Edric slammed his foot on the gas, leaving the cops in the dust.

Ethan shoved his things to the side. He turned around in his seat and looked at Fielding one last time.

_Alex, Michelle, Gage, Karis…...I'll miss you all,_ he thought to himself. _Too bad I didn't have the guts to tell any of you so._

-With thanks to Shiva for beta-reading!


	10. So Long, Suckers!

Gage found Michelle sitting in a lawnchair on Wehrung's balcony, impatiently tapping her cane against the railing. In the corner of the room, her goggles that Ethan and Wehrung had designed to help her see laid shattered, destroyed beyond repair. He was about to ask about what had happened to them when she said, "Hey Gage," without even turning.

His jaw went slack, but only slightly. "How the heck do you do that?"

She smiled playfully at him. "You shuffle a lot."

"It's a habitual thing. Hey, where's Wehrung? And why're you up here?"

"As we speak, Wehrung is making a delivery to LauraJeans SouthPursuit's dorm with a special package, disguised as a FedEx deliveryman. Our favorite Top recently tried to make some rather illicit deals with a girl over at Lawndale High. Thankfully, she refused, but we decided that Laura needed a sucky day anyways. Sorry I didn't call for a vote or anything, but it's the penultimate day of the semester. Kinda felt rushed."

"What's she getting? A bomb?"

"Yeah."

"Ha ha."

"I'm not kidding. It's a cake with a firecracker in it. The cake itself is actually a thin silicone case covered with frosting with some rather...smelly ingredients." She held up what looked like a pager with an LED light in the center. "Wehrung has the other. Once he delivers the package, this will start blinking to notify us of the delivery."

"Whose idea was all of this? I thought we were done with all the pranking. Need I remind you of them?" He pointed at the security guards posted outside another dorm outside.

"Who them?" Michelle frowned.

Gage's face went red. "Sorry. The guards. You know, sometimes it's easy to forget you're blind."

"Thanks. And the idea was all mine, of course. Mwa ha ha!" she laughed maniacally. "Wehrung built the bomb. Frankly, I don't think it's anywhere near as bad as Ethan's scheme with Tipsy Stillwell." Gage's skin prickled at the mention of their last prank, which he, Michelle, and Wehrung had all quickly learned to regret. "But anyway I don't think Ethan should be devising anymore pranks."

"Well, I doubt he'll be able to."

Michelle frowned. "Why not?"

Gage's eyes widened. "Wait," he said, feeling shocked and angry at the same time. "He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

A certain sorrow pervaded Gage's tone. "Ethan moved away."

Michelle dropped the pager. "What?! When? Why?"

Gage dropped his head and sighed. "He didn't even tell me himself. Elizabeth had to, asked me not to tell you guys until after he left. I guess he didn't want a hubbub. His mom got a new job in California and apparently Elizabeth's been begging to move. He's probably landing right now."

"And...he...without any kind of goodbye?"

"Well, she did give me these..." Gage took out a replica of a Star Trek TNG visor. "It's a Star Trek prop autographed by LeVar Burton. I have one for Wehrung, cept it's been cut in half. Ethan bought them."

He gingerly placed it in Michelle's hand. She gripped it with a trembling fist. "The bastard. Ungrateful, remorseless...gah." She sighed and tossed the visor roughly into her book bag.

Gage sighed too and sat on the couch. "Elizabeth said he wanted a clean break. And apparently, he wants us to all know that he's sorry."

A look of awe passed over Michelle's face. "He said he was...said he was sorry? Ethan?"

"And he said we could call him whenever." The last part was a half-truth; Elizabeth asked Gage to call Ethan every so often, so that her brother wouldn't be lonely. And because she knew he wouldn't call them first.

"Feels like I barely knew him," said Michelle, trying to recount any personal details surrounding Ethan, and discovered she could only come up with a few.

"Well, maybe he'll be a bit more open, now that he's thousands of miles away."

Michelle sighed, the anger ebbing away. "Does Wehrung know?"

The door opened. Wehrung stumbled in, his uniform and eye-patch soaked with some kind of a chemical that made both Gage and Michelle retch. "Holy crap! You guys should have seen it! Laura and Bentley started screaming like little girls, I got nail polish thrown at me, it was frickin' beautiful and...and...why are you guys looking at me like that?"

They explained everything to him.

"Ethan left!?" exclaimed Wehrung in disbelief.

Rubbing her temples in irritation, Michelle grumbled, "How many times do we have to say it? He's gone."

"To California?"

"Yeah," Gage confirmed.

"Without telling us?" Wehrung gaped, as though he thought that not even Ethan was capable of that kind of discourtesy.

"Liz told _me_," Gage pointed out.

Wehrung racked his brains for better questions. Eventually, he came up with one that had nothing to do with Ethan. "Now what?"

"What do you mean, now what?" Michelle asked.

Still running his hands through his wiry hair in his lingering shock from what he had just been told a few minutes ago, Wehrung said, "Ethan's our leader, now he's gone. What does that mean for us?"

The three pondered this question.

"Well," Michelle sighed sadly, "Probably no more pranks. For real, this time. He was the source of all our funds." She thought of all the ideas she had for pranking the Tops, and realized they would never come to fruition. There was a pang of disappointment, but it quickly went away, and Michelle realized happily that on the bright side, perhaps the air of hatred that surrounded the ASPS would finally go away.

"We can still meet each other," Gage noted. "I mean, it's not like him leaving means the ASPS are gone."

"Yeah," Wehrung assented.

The three fell into silence. They all realized their pranking days were probably over, that it would be time to move on, focus on more important things again, like academics.

Gage swallowed, and looked guiltily at the ground. "You know what I realized?"

"What?" asked Wehrung and Michelle.

"We haven't actually said anything about Ethan."

They all suddenly felt a pang of shame. Ethan was gone. He had been an, unfeeling, robotic jerk at times, but always loyal to the end for all of them. They all knew this, but couldn't quite put it into words, say it out loud, pay tribute to their departed comrade.

"It's going to be kind of hard, without him," said Michelle. "Who'll put all the crap we have to put up with in perspective?"

Wehrung raised his hand. Gage emitted a ghost of a laugh. "Wehrung volunteers," he told Michelle.

She arched an eyebrow. "You have one eye."

"Hey! What's that...oh, perspective, ha ha." He folded his arms over his chest. "Good one," but his tone was sardonic.

"Yeah," Gage concurred with a mumble. Silence fell once again; although they wanted to say more about Ethan, they couldn't. How could they? He had never talked about himself, rarely ever said how he felt. And now, they might never know.

Gage kicked at the floor. "Agh, let's not get all upset. It's not like he's dead or anything, we can always call him."

There were nods.

"You know," Michelle reflected, "It's definitely going to be weird. Only four of us again."

"Yeah," Gage said. He checked his watch. "She's supposed to be back in an hour," he reminded them.

Gage swallowed, Wehrung's eyelid twitched nervously, Michelle pretended to be focused on her cane.

"Who wants to tell her?"

"She knew him, what, a few weeks?" said Wehrung. "She's not going to give a crap."

"That's sad," said Michelle.

"God, this is just depressing," Gage said. "Look, how about we go and get some ice cream, or something? To take our minds off him."

"Yeah!" squealed Wehrung, bouncing happily.

Soon enough, Ethan's unceremonious departure was forgotten.


	11. The End of an Era

"_Ah, Dylan!" smiled Ethan's father. "Good of you to swing by!"_

Dylan politely smiled at him and limped inside the new Dressler home: a two-acre white McMansion. Inside, the walls were equally sterile.

"You've met my wife, correct?" he asked, gesturing at Alix Dressler who was setting the table-napkins on the large, marble dining-room table.

"Yes sir," Dylan said. She waved at her. "Nice to see you, Mrs. D."

"You too, darling. You're looking healthy."

"Thanks. I feel healthy. Although…" she tapped a finger against the hilt of her cane. "I've been told I'll never be without this." She eyed Xander. "But it could have been worse."

There was a beeping noise. "Ah, the pig's nuked!" exclaimed Xander. He skipped over the oven and roared, "Kids! Dinner!"

"Coming!" Elizabeth called from upstairs. She came down first, giving Dylan a quick greeting as she descended. Edric shook her hand and introduced himself. As for Ethan, when he saw her he stared at her in a piercing way. She stared back, hoping for at least some sign of change. He shrugged and went to take a seat at the table, ignoring her.  


"Very nice, Ethan," said his physiology teacher, Mr. Reed, a muscular-looking man with a buzzcut. He gestured for Ethan to raise his hand, in which sat the brain from a fetal pig. The teacher leaned in to look at it. He nodded, satisfied. "Perfect. It's completely intact. You get an a plus."

Ethan nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"It kinda looks like a penis."

Ethan and Reed turned to the girl who had said it: a prissy-looking senior with bright red nails, equally-red lipstick, and a shirt that read, "Wanted it. Had a fit. Got it."

"I beg your pardon?" Ethan sneered.

"It looks like a penis, I said." The girl laughed, pointing at it. "C'mon, tell me that it doesn't look like a penis."

"Megan, get back to work," Reed sighed.

The girl gagged in a purposely theatrical way at the pig sitting in front of her. "Ugh, like, no way! It's gross! And I think they killed them for us, whoever those people who gave us the pigs are. They did, didn't they?"

Reed was about to answer, when Ethan cut in. "Well, they certainly didn't ask to be cut out," he said haughtily.

Flustering, Megan screeched, "Shut up, smart-ass!"

"Whatever you say, dumb-ass."

She screeched as loudly as she could, causing some of the other Saratoga students to cover their ears. "Mr. Reed, he called me a dumb-ass!"

"I heard, Megan," he grumbled, removing a finger from his ears.

"Well, DO something about it!"

Begrudgingly, Reed turned to Ethan and said, "Mr. Dressler, would you come and see me when lunch is over so that we can talk?"

Ethan's face shows no emotion, but his hand slowly tightened into a fist around the scalpel. "Yes, Mr. Reed."

"Thank you, Ethan."

"Ha!" Megan exclaimed.

"_So, Dylan, how's life been at the Academy?" Edric asked her, a genuine smile on his face. The other Dresslers mostly kept to themselves, slowly eating away at Xander's famed lasagna recipe._

Thankful that the silence had been broken, Dylan said, "Well, recently the mathletes had a face off with St. Pius X." She noticed Ethan gagging on his food. He often referred to the students of the Academy's rival as 'A bunch of sheep whose capacity for rational thought is so limited they think Ronald Reagan may have well been Christ reincarnated.' "We stomped them into the ground." She looked at Ethan now. "Ryan absolutely destroyed them."

He did not look up at her. 

"Come on, Mr. Reed," Ethan said, his arms crossed over his chest, "Megan thinks that Walt Disney is still alive as a frozen head. I've seen cockroaches more intelligent than she is."

"Ethan, that's enough. You can't just insult her like that. You gotta keep those opinions to yourself. I expect you to make an apology to her tomorrow."

He looked as though Reed had just slapped him. "I'd rather eat crap. And that's not hyperbole."

"Then I'll have to give you lunch detention, Mr. Dressler."

"Suits me. But it's not like you can make me adhere to that, either."

"Ethan. One more word and I'll have to call your parents."

He was about to reply, but Ethan decided that he was already angry enough. The last thing he needed was for one of his parents to scream at him for interrupting their work over the phone at him again.

"_All right, what gives?" Dylan asked Ethan. "You haven't said one goddamn word to me all night."_

"That's because I'm mad at you."

"YOU are mad at…I wasn't the one who took an unannounced trip to ABQ to assault someone!"

"You had no right to humiliate me in front of my-" Ethan froze when Dylan raised her cane and pointed the tip of it in his face.

"Don't you dare blame your woes on ME, Ethan."

"I already am. Louise." Saying Dylan's real name had the desired effect: her face went bright red. She had always hated that name. And so did her classmates, who would tell her it made her sound like an old woman. He hoped that this would make it easier.

"Are you trying to intentionally piss me off?" Dylan seethed.

"No. I'm trying to break up with you."

No sooner than he had said that did she drop her cane. He did not help her as she fell to her knees to pick it back up, even though he wanted to. "Why?" she barely whispered.

His face was stone, and everything he said was spoken with a cold precision. "I do not owe you answer. I want you gone, and that is that."

Her mouth hung open in shock. "W-when the hell did you decide on this?!"

"After you left Albuquerque. And I can guess you know why." Dylan's eyes were huge. "And I never want to talk to you again," he added matter-of-factly. "Don't call me, don't write to me, don't e-mail me either."

There was a silence that seemed to last for years. In a ghost of a voice, Dylan said slowly, "You're my best friend."

"No longer. Go."

A look passed over on Dylan's face. It was the same expression that had defined her after she discovered she had cancer. Complete shock and confusion. Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. "Go."

Without saying a word or shedding a tear, Dylan turned and slowly limped out of the house. Moments later, Edric strode briskly into Ethan's room. "What did you say to her?" he asked. "What did you do?"

Ethan was sitting on his chair, staring blankly up at his brother. He did not speak.

"I'm going to go talk to her. She looks really upset."

….

Realization was beginning to dawn on Edric's face. "You little…." he shot his younger brother a disgusted look and jogged off to catch up to Dylan.

Downstairs, Elizabeth, Alix, and Xander watched as ran out. "What's he up to?" Elizabeth wondered out loud. "Is Dylan oka-" she was cut off by the sound of a scream and breaking glass coming from upstairs.

"Ethan!" called Xander.

"Come on!" Elizabeth exclaimed. She and her parents ran upstairs into Ethan's room. His little sister gasped. Not because there was a fist-sized hole in her brother's window.

But because Ethan was sobbing. He was hunched over in his chair, his hands each grabbing a tuft of his hair. His crying racked his whole body, and tears fell freely to the floor. He didn't even care that his family was watching him.

Outside the coffee shop, he took off his business jacket and slung it over a chair. Then he bought an Ultra-Cola and downed the whole cup, belching loudly afterwards. He ignored the disgusted, "Yucks!"

He was hoping a cold drink would soothe him. The image of Megan laughing at him still made his face blanche in humiliation and anger. To be treated so lowly by a lowlife…he clenched his fists and growled. Feeling the need for another soda, he reached into his pockets for money, but found none. Grunting, Ethan twisted in his chair and reached into the pockets of his jacket, feeling for bills. His fingers clutched something wrinkled. Satisfied, he pulled it out of the pocket and looked at it. When he saw it, his heart leapt into his mouth.

It was a picture of him and Dylan when they were still in middle-school. Dylan had a matte-black bandana wrapped around her bald forehead, and she had his laughing younger self in a headlock. Dylan was keeping a completely straight face through the whole thing. Ethan had forgotten that he had ever been happy. He felt something well up in his throat, but he was able to keep it down. It was hard, considering Dylan's placid face now looked like a scowl.

Hushing his voice, Ethan professed, "I did it because I thought you deserved better. I knew how much I'd made you miserable after that whole thing back in Albuquerque, and I just thought that you could use a better friend. I didn't want you to be tied to a sociopath. I regret what I did every day. I don't know how you are now. But I hope you're happy."

She continued to scowl at him. Ethan brushed at his eyes, then put the photo away. Sighing, he decided it was time to head home and explain to his mother how he managed to get lunch detention. "She probably won't mind that much," he reassured himself. "Edric used to get much worse in the way of punishments."

He walked off in the direction of home. Ethan looked both ways, then crossed the street.

There was a zoom, a crunch, and a scream of twisting metal. And a screech, high-pitched and inhuman.


	12. Not Aboard

"So, how's your first day of sophomore year going so far?" Michelle asked the assembled group.

"Fine," shrugged Wehrung as he took another massive bite into his sandwich. He said little more, mostly because he was struggling to keep all the tuna in his mouth. A few chunks slipped back onto his plate.

Cringing at that sight, Gage said, "Michelle, sometimes I think you're lucky to be blind." Karis giggled and Wehrung rolled his one eye at him.

"I don't even want to know why," said Michelle. She cheerfully asked, "So. Gage. Journalism next period. Exciiiiited?"

He smiled and nodded. "But I'll have to see what they'll assign me to." Gage had signed up for the paper for elective credits, and because he genuinely enjoyed writing and photography and wanted to get some practice in. "But I can't deny that it'll be nice to have a few privilages."

"Like what?" asked Karis, curious.

"Well, free admittance to school events."

"But you don't go to any," Michelle reminded him.

"Still, it's nice to say that you can."

Karis raised a hand as though she were in-class. "Can I ask a question?"

"Not sure why you need permission, but sure, shoot," Gage said.

"Do you just learn about journalism, or do you write for the paper?"

"Write. You learn about everything in the first semester of journalism, and I took that over the summer."

"What?" said Wehrung, frowning. "When did you do that?"

Gage gave him a quizzical look. "Where do you think I was from eight to eleven in the morning?"

Flushing, Wehrung mumbled, "I dunno. Listening to Cradle of Filth, or something?"

Karis almost coughed up her milk. She gave Gage a horrified look. "You listen to who now?! Pas ces faux-artistes terribles?"

Wehrung had to duck to avoid getting a muffin tossed at his face. "They like to joke that I'm emo cause of my hairdo," Gage explained. "And it never gets old for them."

"And the eyeliner, don't forget the eyeliner," Michelle added.

"It's a personal touch!" he cried, indignant.

Wehrung mimed an impression of a woman powdering her face. Gage threw up his hands. "That's it, I'm gone." He stood up from the table and shrugged his backpack onto his shoulders. "See you all at Michelle's place after school?"

He got a collective thumbs up.

XXXX

Gage had not been inside the journalism classroom for a minute before he was accosted by Mina Bager, the Boarder's Managing Editor. "Hey Gage, guess what?"

He would have sidestepped around her, but he was in the doorway. There wasn't enough room. "What?" he reluctantly replied.

"It's my birthday today!"

"Congratulations," he said dryly. Bager's nose scrunched up at his unenthusiasm.

"Well," she said, "Excuse me. You know, if it were your birthday, I wouldn't be so rude!"

_Yes you would be. Now get out of my way, please,_ Gage thought, but he didn't say it.

"Hey, Mina!"

She turned around, providing Gage with the distraction he needed. He swerved around her as she talked to Nafer Boradi, a freshman whom Ethan had often described as 'A boy with the sweetest disposition, but accursed with the fashion sense of someone in the Rocky Horror Picture Show.' Indeed, today he was wearing a bright pink fedora with a feather in it. "Happy birthday," he said, smiling. He handed Mina a small package, which she greedily snatched away and tore at.

Even from across the room at his unoccupied desk, Gage heard her screech, "A gift card!? You got me a goddamn giftcard! Ugh, that's so impersonal! I don't even shop at Cashman's!"

"The badger is already nagging. Wonderful." Gage waved a greeting to the speaker, Jonathan Karbacki, a senior and one of the cartoonists. He was a skilled artist, and a very droll humorist. He extended his hand to Gage, and they shook. "Nice to see you here, Mr. Harris. Whatcha going to write for us? You know?"

Gage shook his head. "I'm waiting for an assignment from-"

"Thystun!" Carlton Daniels roared from the doorway of his office. "I want to talk to you!"

"De Fuhrer," Gage muttered. Karbacki snickered as Gage walked into Daniel's office. He was not offered a chair. Daniels looked Gage up and down with a barely contained sneer, as though Gage were infected with some kind of heinous disease. _Well, that's somewhat true._

"So, Mr. Thystun," Daniels grumbled, "I understand that you wish to write for the Boarder this year."

Gage raised the eyebrow concealed by the curtain of hair that fell over his face. _Well, it certainly wasn't for the pleasant company._ "Yes sir," he said flatly.

"Do you have anything in particular you'd like to write about?"

Without hesitation, he said, "I'd go for film reviews."

"Of classic films, I assume?"

Gage frowned. "Uh, no, of recent releases. You know, of relevant films."

Daniels crossed his arms over his chest in disapproval. "Our readers don't want to read about what sophomores think of crappy action films."

_The vast majority of your readers are breathing air from tanks that weigh more than they do._ It was well known that the boarder's largest audience was its aging alumni. He kept that thought to himself and defended his decision. "A good portion of Fielding alumni have gone into the film industry themselves. Garrett Lazenby is a director, Barney Crawford is a producer, and Sara Cummings wrote My Wild Irish Love, which was actually not half bad. A lot of alumni are interested in reading what their old friends have produced."

Nonplussed, Daniels countered, "You've given me three names. Only three."

_You can count. Yay for you!_ Gage knew that he had no better hard points to utilize, so he swallowed his pride and went straight to pleading. "Mr. Daniels, please. You have to admit, a staple of students papers are film reviews. I've read a lot of books on film critiquing, writing, and directing too. I even made a ten-minute film when I was in the eighth grade. I think I have a more than accurate comprehension of the medium. All I ask is you let me go review this new movie that came out recently. It's called "Head Explode."

Daniels gave him a look that was both surprised and disgusted. "You want to review garbage?"

"Me personally, I prefer to judge things after I've experienced them." To Gage's satisfaction, Daniels ground his teeth at that. "But regardless, reading negative reviews are more fun that reading positive ones."

Before Daniels could open his mouth and (Gage guessed) shoot him down again, he quickly said, "All I ask is one review, and if you find it unsatisfactory, I wont make any more requests." He crossed his fingers behind his back when he said that.

Carlton Daniels stared Gage with hard eyes, tapping his fingers against his desk, unsure whether to give this anomaly a chance or throw him through a grinder. After some thought, he figured he might as well give him a chance. He could always throw him through two grinders later.

XXXX

There were sharp shushings and hissings in the theater as Gage and Karis laughed out loud at the image of a man's head exploding in what was probably the worst CGI of the past few years. "Oh god, I'm dying," Gage huffed in between breaths. He hadn't had this much fun in years. _And that's kind of sad. Ah, whatever! _

"This is awful," Karis agreed, not bothering to whisper. "This is really, really awful."

"Shut up!" someone cried at them. Karis shrunk in her seat, and Gage raised his middle finger in the general direction of whoever had shouted that. He smiled at the sound of an appalled gasp.

"We should probably be a little quieter though," he said, "Because Clay doesn't tolerate interruptions."

"Who?"

"The owner."

"Oh."

Another twenty minutes in, when the female love interest began professing her love for the protagonist, Gage swore he'd read better writing from Beth Sweetapple. He and Karis began groaning while everyone else in the theater was sighing. That must have rubbed somebody the wrong way, because Clay approached them and said, "Sorry kids, you're going to have to leave now."

"What? Why?!" Gage hissed sharply.

"I got a couple complaints. Besides, neither of you are over seventeen." He frowned. "Hey, how did you get in anyways?"

"Uh, we paid for our tickets?" explained Karis meekly.

"Lana," Clay guessed. The aging ticket-counter was not exactly known for competence. He sighed, gesturing for the two to follow him. Karis bowed her head and walked out with Gage.

"It's all right," he told her, "there were only two minutes left anyway. I think I can write a decent review."

As they were about to exit, a woman with huge glasses sitting in the back row exclaimed, "Serves you right, brats!"

Clay's face turned angry, and Gage balled his fists. To the casual observer, they were calm in comparison to Karis, who lost her cool and screamed, "Tais-toi imbécile! Ce que nous disons n'est pas de vos affaires! Le fait que vous appréciez même ce film en dit beaucoup plus sur vous que cela nous fait!"

The woman who had berated them looked equally enraged and confused. Her mouth opened and closed several times. "I…you…"

Gage noticed a vein pulsing in her forehead. He looked at her with a sarcastic smile and said, "Please, stop if it starts to hurt," with as much irony as he could muster. To his relish, he heard someone else in the theater laugh. A couple people, actually. The woman's face turned a deep shade of magenta.

"Come on, kid," said Clay, who took Gage by the arm and dragged him out, Karis close behind. Once they were in the lobby, Clay gave Gage a stony look, and for a moment Gage thought he was in serious trouble. Then Clay's mulitcolored mustache curled upwards as he laughed. "Nice one, kid." He looked at Karis. " You too, missy. That was Michelle McDonald you just screamed at."

"The physics teacher at Grove Hills?" asked Gage, surprised. Dr. McDonald was known to be ruthless and cruel to her students. One well-circulated tale recounted how she called one of her own students mentally retarded when he kept asking for help. How she hadn't been fired was anyone's guess.

"All bark and no bite, that woman," Clay smirked. "Always wanted to see her get put in her place."

Karis's face suddenly paled considerably. Without words, she pointed past them towards the doors. McDonald, fists clenched and red-faced, was stalking toward them. Clay said hurriedly, "Better scram, kids!"

Gage and Karis both took off. "And don't come back!" They were so far away from the theater that they couldn't tell whether it had been a joking send-off from Clay or a curse from McDonald.

Once they were confident that they were far enough, Gage and Karis reduced their brisk jogging down to a relaxed walk. "Well," Gage smiled. "That was fun."

"Your definition of fun must be different from mine," said Karis. She looked back again to make sure that McDonald wasn't still on their heels. "Confrontation isn't exactly something I yearn for."

"You seemed to be pretty good at it."

Karis looked away. She mumbled something. "What?" said Gage.

"I have anger-management issues," Karis grumbled begrudgingly.

"Oh." Gage's tone became softer. "Crap, I'm sorry."

She shrugged, which put Gage somewhat at ease. "Yeah, me too. That's why I'm here."

He frowned, confused. "You came here with me because you were angry?"

"Oh no, nononono," she clarified. She looked like she was trouble finding her words.

"You don't have to tell-"

"I punched another girl's teeth out," she said suddenly, and without a hint of unease.

Gage tried not to laugh in disbelief. Karis was smaller than he was, around five-foot-seven, and very light of frame. He didn't believe she could break a walnut open if she tried. "With what?"

She gave him a look as though the answer was perfectly obvious. "My pinkie." When Gage's jaw dropped, she laughed. "No, I'm kidding you, mate. She was saying some untrue things about me, and so I got fed up and put my fist through her mouth. I got expelled, and my mother exiled me here." Karis had decided to take Wehrung's advice to hurt. She was pleased to see that Gage wasn't immediately repulsed by this development.

And while Gage was amazed, he feigned a pinch of fright. "Promise you won't beat me up?" he joked. He jumped when Karis patted him on the shoulder.

"Promise, mate," she smiled.

Gage chuckled.

"Whatcha laughing about?"

"It's just kinda funny," he said. "You and Michelle are the really tough ones. If this club is any indication, women will soon rule the world with iron fists."

"With the balls of men in one hand," quipped Karis in a deep voice, "And a Jane Austen novel in the other." The two laughed at that. "We could, though," she said knowingly, "If a good portion of us didn't scream at the first sign of a spider."

"They are pretty damned scary," he said. "Big eyes, long legs, and enough venom to make your day suck for a good few hours at least."

"Kinda like Mina Bager."

Gage slapped his knee and laughed. "Exactly like Mina Bager. Good thing there aren't more of her. Speaking of that…" he checked his watch and drew in a sharp breath. "Crap, I gotta go write that review!"

"Let's take a run, then. It's good for your health."

"My health isn't exactly easy to improve, but sure, race you back!"

XXXX

"How're these?" Gage said to Daniels as he handed in his review.

"Well, I haven't read them yet, Gage," he said irritably.

Gage blew his hair away from his eyes. "I can see that," he said flatly. "Would you mind doing so?"

Daniels sighed, as if it were the last thing he wanted to do. "Yeah," he said begrudgingly. "Just give me, like twenty minutes or so."

"Twenty? Could you make it a bit faster? I need to be out of here in ten..."

"I have other stuff to take care of!" Daniels exclaimed suddenly, waving another handful of papers in Gage's face. "You're not the only student here, remember?"

_I am the only_ student. _You address everyone else as reporters._ "Can you get it to me by tonight, then?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!? What if I need to make edits-"

"Did I stutter? Yes, tomorrow! And no earlier."

"You've got to be kidding me!"

"What do you expect me to do, Thystun? Deliver it to your door?"

"That'd be optimal," he said.

Daniels suddenly grabbed at the article, and Gage realized with horror he meant to tear it apart. "No!" he cried. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Please, don't tear it up!"

To his relief, the teacher set it down. "It better be a damned good review, boy, otherwise it's going to end in a shredder. Now go back to your seat."

_Yes, mein fuhrer,_ Gage thought ruefully. Feeling thoroughly frustrated, he walked back to his desk and started to roughly pack his notebook and pencils into his backpack, when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and saw Zoey Liebsher, a nervous junior who was one of the feature writers. She was also a wanna-be Top.

And she was nervously standing over him, shifting her weight. Before she could say anything, Gage said robotically, "I don't sew or modify for free. If you have an order, send a written request to my dorm and I'll see what I can do." He had practiced saying that clearly and quickly after he got numerous requests to do free work.

Her face reddened. "That's not why I want to talk to you," she said angrily.

"Oh. Ah, sorry then. Well….what's up, Zoey?"

She bit her lip and nodded her head to the phone sitting in the corner of the room. "Well, um, I'm writing this article. A former boarder got hit by a car recently, and I need to talk to his family. But I really don't want to. Could you?" she explained. Her eyes were anxious and pleading.

Gage liked the idea as much as she did. "Why me?" he asked, curious.

"Well, I thought, you know, you kind of people were good with, ah, controlling your emotions."

Anger shot through Gage. "My kind," he said slowly.

"Yeah. You know, emo people?"

He felt himself relax, though not by much. "Yeah, sure," he mumbled, averting his eyes. "Whatever."

"Thanks!" she said bubbily.

He sat down next to the phone and picked up the receiver. "You have the number?" he asked Zoey.

"Yeah." She told him the number. He punched it in.

After a few moments, a young, weary-sounding female voice said, "Hello?"

Fighting back the urge to hang up, Gage said, "Yeah, uh, hi. My name's Gage Harris, I work at the Fielding Border. I understand a member of your family was hit by a car?"

There was a prolonged silence, and Gage feared that whoever he had been talking to hung up. Before he took the receiver away from his ear, the voice said, "What did you say your name was again?"

"Gage Harris."

"Gage? It's Elizabeth. Dressler."

"Eliza…why..." Then, realization dawned upon Gage. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. His face turned to color of milk as his hand shook. He felt the ground sway beneath him. _No, no way, this can't have happened, not to him, dude was invincible….not to him…_

"Gage? Are you there?" Elizabeth asked.

He swallowed. Reluctantly, he asked, "What happened?"

-With thanks to Roentgen for beta-reading!


	13. Moving into a Snake's Den

**Two Weeks Before Gage Joins the Paper**

"Pardon me, ma'am?"

"Mm?" Lou-Anne Judge, the frail and elderly secretary of the Fielding Disability Office peered over her desk. A handsome boy with thick-rimmed glasses and red hair that reached down to his shoulder, sitting in a wheelchair was smiling up at her. She guessed that he was no older than twelve.

He waved cheerily. "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you have a package for me? Under Roy Clem?"

"Clem?" she thought about it. "Clem, Clem, Clem...oh, yes! I believe I do!" She hobbled out of her swivel chair unsteadily and made her way to the back room. After a minute, she returned with a brown package. "Here you go, sweetie," she said, handing the package to him. It was rather heavy, but he had no trouble handling it.

"Thank you!" he exclaimed happily. Judge could not help but smile back, and waved him goodbye as he rolled his way out of the disabilities office down the ramp.

Roy Clem was still smiling as he wheeled his way out of Fielding's disabilities office. And why shouldn't he? Roy had never been happier; his dream had come true! _I'm at Fielding, I'm at Fielding, oh my god, I can't believe I made it!_ he thought over and over again. Ever since he was a fifth grader, Roy had dreamed of attending his father's alma mater. Roy Clem Sr. had been singing the school's praises for years, often talking of how much fun he had as a lacrosse player and the many things he'd learned. Indeed, Roy Sr. had discovered his passion for engineering here. Roy Jr. hoped he could do the same.

He checked his map for Underhill again, and deduced he was going in the right direction. He waved at other students walking about as he passed them. A few smiled and waved back, but a few snickered as well. That made Roy frown, but he shrugged it off and continued on. Eventually, he reached the dorm and found the elevator. He took it up to the third floor, and made his way to his dorm room, eager to meet his new roommate. He knocked three times under the placard marked 'A. Wehrung.' "Hello?"

"I'm in the middle of my homework, here!" came a disgruntled reply.

"Uh, Alex Wehrung?"

A pause. "What do you want?"

The open hostility in the voice's tone made Roy a little nervous. "Uh, I'm Roy Clem, I'm your new roommate?"

Another pause. Longer, this time. The door opened all the way. Roy looked up and put on another smile, which was hard, because with the eyepatch, Alex Wehrung looked remarkably like a thug, especially with the long, greasy black hair that fell down to his shoulders. But he looked more confused than angry. "Roommate? You sure you have the right room? I haven't heard anything about a roommate."

"Oh . Well, isn't that weird!" Roy giggled, and Wehrung frowned.

"I guess. Ah, do you have anything saying you're my roommate?"

"I do!" Roy reached inside his blazer and withdrew a letter. He handed it to Wehrung, who read it out loud.

_Mr. Roy Jamie Clem Jr. is hereby appointed to take up residence with Mr. Alexander Elwen Wehrung in the Underhill dormitory. If either party feel the need to lodge a complaint, please call Mrs. Sofia Berticovich at 456-4963._

Signed,

Headmaster Michaelas

"Huh." Wehrung frowned at the letter as though it were a curious object. Then he gave Roy a look that seemed to say, 'You're guilty.' "So, you're my new roommate, huh?"

Roy nodded enthusiastically. "Yup!"

"Ah." Wehrung looked back into his own room and made a nervous hissing sound. He addressed Roy again. "You, ah, want to come back later so I can clean the place up a bit? It's not exactly spic-and-spec."

"No problem!" said Roy. "I have a pretty messy room myself. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"Oh." Wehrung shrugged, and beckoned him inside.

Roy wheeled himself in. _I spoke to soon,_ he thought. Books, dirty clothes, and random writing utensils ranging from crayons to fountain pens were strewn all over the place. It also seemed as if Roy's new dorm-mate had been sleeping in both beds. There was also a certain rank odor hanging in the air.

But Roy didn't mind at all. He was just too excited. He turned around to face Wehrung, who seemed wary of him. Roy noticed this. Deciding Wehrung was nervous, he decided to engage in conversation. "So, I'm not if you got it earlier, but I'm Roy! Roy Clem." He extended his hand, which Wehrung shook.

XXXX

Roy asked, "Do you prefer Alex or Alexander?"

"Wehrung, actually. There are too many people named Alex in this world for me to count. Wehrung's fine."

"Oh. Okay! What grade are you in, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Sophomore. You?"

"I'm just staring the sixth grade here, transferred from Lincoln Middle School in Los Oso, California. I'm super-duper glad I finally got here! It was hard."

"Mm." The amount of enthusiasm Roy was showing for Fielding was starting to concern Wehrung. He wondered if Roy was one of those overly-enthusiastic academics who got beaten up on a regular basis; according to Ethan, they often hid their sorrows behind a mask of positivity. The glasses and wheelchair didn't help that notion. Wehrung decided to trap him. "Quick question for you."

"Shoot!"

"How come you haven't asked me about my eye yet? People usually do."

"Oh! Well, I mean, I guess it's not that important. I mean, it's kinda like asking why your hair's black. Like, I don't think the fact that I can't walk is a particularly pressing issue."

"I guess not." _Well_, Wehrung thought, _He may not be as blind as I thought._

Roy continued, "I think a lot of people here think like that. Lots of people were pretty nice to me on my way over here, and nobody asked me about my chair!"

_Aaaaaand there we go._ Wehrung let out another concerned hiss. "Ah, Roy, another question."

"Sure!"

"Besides me, how many other students have you talked to since you got here?"

Roy thought about it, then pointed at Wehrung's first unperturbed. "You'd be the first."

Wehrung laughed ruefully, which made Roy frown. "What's so funny?" he asked.

"Oh god, kid. You think people are nice? The people here are poisonous. Vipers. Snakes. Scum. It's because of people here _this_ happened," he said, pointing to his eye. It wasn't a lie. Not completely.

Roy looked completely horrified. "Really?" he whispered.

"Yeah-heah. Haven't you ever heard about the Knowledge? Fielding Handshakes?"

"No," admitted Roy, who looked both curious and concerned.

"Jeez, kid, let me give you the 411." Around forty-two minutes later, Wehrung had thoroughly explained things to Roy. He felt both satisfaction and shame: he felt as though he had saved from a terrible fate brought on by the boy's own naive expectations, but at the same time Roy looked as though someone had just told him his dog had died. He bowed his head in disappointment before looking up at Wehrung with searching eyes, hoping that the whole thing was a joke.

He asked, "Are you telling me the truth?"

Wehrung nodded.

"This place is horrible?"

"Well, the people are. If you like learning, though, this is the place for you to be."

"Oh." Roy gave a downtrodden sigh, before it suddenly, to Wehrung's shock, became a hopeful smile. "Hey, people aren't everything, you know. It's not like I have to befriend everyone! I already befriended you!"

"We're friends? Already?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Ah...well hell," Wehrung chuckled, "Why not."

"And I love learning more than anything! Hey, you got any textbooks I can root through until my luggage arrives?"

Wordlessly, Wehrung handed him his English textbook, which Roy greedily took and immediately began to devour. Seeing that the boy was lost in thought, Wehrung retrieved his laptop and started to hack the Fielding database, wondering what he could discover about Roy Clem.

But then he looked at the sixth-grader again, and thought back to the eager innocence he had displayed earlier. Wehrung suddenly felt guilty about spying on this boy. He wasn't sure why, but that didn't stop him from closing his laptop.

"Hey, Roy?"

Roy looked up from the book. It seemed that he never stopped smiling. "Yes?"

Wehrung smirked. "No wild parties."

They both laughed.


	14. Going Native

**He probably didn't imagine what using a phone while driving would do. He didn't imagine the consequences. But they caught up with him.  
Former boarder Ethan Dressler was driving down a street in California on his phone when he accidentally drove into the opposite lane, causing him to run head-on into another car filled with children coming home from school. They were unharmed, but Ethan wasn't so lucky.  
He suffered many injuries, including a fractured skull, several lacerations, and numerous bruises that have left him in a vegetative state. According to the Good Samaritan Hospital in San Jose, California, his recovery is unlikely.  
His family had no comment.**

Gage held the paper in trembling, furious hands, a full-on scowl on his face. He grabbed opposite ends of the paper and pulled. "Lying," rip, "Idiotic," rip, "Garbage-eating cretins!" The pieces of the paper fluttered onto the floor. Several other students stared at him from the other cafeteria tables.

Wehrung looked at the fragments with some dismay. "That was my paper," he reminded Gage.

He received a stony look that made him flinch. "Do I look like I care?" Gage said icily.

"Jeez, sorry." Wehrung looked around at the other students, who continued to stare. He flipped up his eye-patch at them. The ones who didn't retch turned away immediately. He turned back to Gage. "Did they lie, or was it just a mistake?" he asked.

"Zoey may be dumb, but she's not _that_ dumb to make as a big mistake as that. I'll bet someone put this crap in the paper to villainize Ethan, probably Daniels. Must've been Daniels. It would make sense; remember that essay Ethan published?"

Towards the end of freshman year, Ethan had sent in an article to the Lawndale Herald, criticizing the structure of the Boarder and its leadership, not even bothering to hide that it was him who wrote it. That infuriated Daniels even more than the fact that the article had been published right under his nose by Karbacki.

Gage continued, "What really happened was some drunk idiot swerved out of his lane and hit Ethan. The only reason he's alive was because he jumped at the last second and wasn't hit full-on, but it was enough."

Wehrung grimaced. "Jesus Christ. And you're sure he's not going to wake up?"

Gage sighed sadly. "Yeah. His own dad told me so." He remembered Xander Dressler's usually collected voice break several times over the course of their conversation over the phone.

"Aw, man." Wehrung sighed and looked forlornly at his food. "I never even gave him a call."

"Why not?"

Noticing his friend's obvious discomfort at being asked that question, Gage reassured him, "It's all right, dude, I didn't either. And I wonder why too."

"Well…" Wehrung tried to put his thoughts into words, something which he had never considered himself good at. Looking anxious and regretful, he shrugged and said, "I don't know. I guess I was just putting it off. Wel...he never called _me_. I didn't feel obligated." He buried his face in his hands before running them through his greasy hair, which was starting to reach to his shoulders. "God, I feel sucky."

Reaching inside his school jacket, Gage withdrew the golden ASPS pin, the one Ethan had helped design: a golden circle, with a snake in the middle. The society's motto, 'Periculosum Valde' was inscribed beneath the hissing serpent. "Yeah," Gage mumbled. He clutched the pin in a clawed hand. "Me too."

XXXX

Michelle made several faces to express her disgust as she read the article.

"I know, eh," said Karis, sitting on the floor of Michelle's dorm room. "It's pretty awful. The article, and what they said about him. Why did they have to print this, anyways? It invades his family's privacy."

Michelle tossed the paper aside. "I don't know if you've realized this yet, Kar," she said, pronouncing the moniker as 'care,' "But this school is mostly populated by scum. Hell, we've been scummy. I've told you about the stunts we pulled."

Indeed, initially, Karis had been horrified and intimidated when she had learned of the kind of things the ASPS did. But once she had met some lax bros and Tops, she was less sympathetic towards them and more towards her new friends. "I'm really sorry, though," Karis said. "About Ethan."

Sighing, Michelle said, "Me too. Granted, he wasn't the nicest guy….he was kinda uh, a bit of a jerk. But at least he was a loyal jerk. He made me those cool goggles-"

"What goggles?"

"I'll tell you later. He made those, he got us cool stuff, and he would do anything for us. And now that he's gone, a veggie…." her eyes teared up. Michelle wiped at them and cursed. "God, it sucks." She accepted a hug from Karis before taking her cane. "I'll be back in a minute," she said, picking up the newspaper. "I just need to go take a trip to the bathroom first."

As she was about to leave, Karis exclaimed, "Wait, there's no toilet paper. Someone took them all as a prank and teepeed Underhill."

Unsmiling, Michelle held up the newspaper for Karis to see. "Not a problem."

A little while afterwards, the two took a walk outside in the sun. Michelle turned her face skyward, absorbing the rays of the sun she would never seen while Karis regarded her with a pang of jealousy; even wearing a pair of reflective sunglasses, she never dared look up. "Bet it's nice weather today," Michelle said. "Am I right, Karis? Any clouds?"

"No. I don't think so, anyway."

"You think?" Michelle looked puzzled for a brief moment, then came to the correct conclusion. "Oh. Right."

"You know," Karis said, "It just dawned on me all the ASPS have something peculiar going on with our eyes."

Letting out a tiny laugh, Michelle said, "I'd say you're slow, but it took Wehrung a lot longer to figure that out."

"Is that a trend?"

"Wehrung not noticing anything? Well, once I replaced his shampoo with-"

"No, I meant having odd eyes."

"Oh. Ah…..not sure. I never knew any of the original members. I think Annette might have had pink eye at one point."

"Hm. Pink. White. Yellow."

"What?"

"Annette's eye color-"

"Pink eye is a sickness."

"I know. Annette. Me. Ethan."

"...and?"

"Nothing, I guess. Just an observation. We artists do that. Observe."

"I've never seen any of your art."

"Well, I never said I was any good."

"That's true, you haven't. But are you?"

Karis shrugged. "With graphite pencils, oui. Anything else is a douleur dans mes fesses."

"Ah, I see," Michelle smirked.

"Sorry," Karis apologized. "The whole speaking French thing is somewhat habitual."

"I thought you English blokes had it out for the French?"

"Blokes?"

"Yeah," Michelle said. "Blokes."

"Blokes means guys."

"Oh. Then what's girls?"

"Birds."

"That sounds a little negative. Anyways, do you Englishpeople dislike the French or not?"

"Only the silly ones."

"Silly Englishmen or French?" Michelle asked.

"Englishmen. And women."

"Right."

"Right. Hey Michelle, can I ask you something? I'm just curious."

"Go ahead."

"How'd you end up in the ASPS? Was it as crazy for you as when you guys...ah, inducted me?"

"Pretty close. Ethan and Wehrung saw me kick Sue Bentley and her friends' butts."

"She seems to receive a regular walloping from you guys."

"Well, now with the heightened security around campus after the whole egg-tossing incident, I don't think we could get away with that anymore."

"Can I ask you one more question, Michelle? You don't have to answer it."

"Ooh, sounds like a good one."

"Did you guys like hurting those people?"

Michelle stopped in her tracks, and Karis felt her heart leap into her throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you-"

"No, no," Michelle said, looking as though she was at a loss for words. "I'm just trying to formulate a response." She had often grappled with that question herself, just like the other ASPS. Sometimes they could justify it all, sometimes they couldn't. Those were dark, scary times for them.

Even though Michelle couldn't make eye contact with Karis, she still stared away from her. "We never hurt anyone badly. Well, Ethan did on rare occassion; sometimes, he did some pretty nasty stuff to people. What we mostly did was humiliation, just to teach them lessons. We tried to keep it as private as possible. And by that, I mean we didn't want to make it public, drawing attention to our victims out in the open. It was just to teach them a lesson, I guess."

"Isn't that what bullies usually say before they throw a fist into your gut?"

The words easily slipped from Karis's mouth. For a moment, she forgot whom she had been talking to. Terrified, she waited for a response from Michelle, whose face expressed a mixture of anger and hurt. Eventually, the blind ASP mumbled, "Let's go." They continued on, not saying anything. Karis tried to apologize, but whenever she thought she was about to, her words caught in her throat.

XXXX

Roy Clem was rolling his way across the campus to his next class, when he spotted an old man in a dark blue business suit hobbling his way across the courtyard. The old man was tall and hunched over with a cane to support him. Every stride he made seemed angry, embittered and impatient. The old man froze. As if he knew he was being watched, his head turned and he looked at Roy. His eyes were a cold, dark blue. Feeling suddenly very uneasy, Roy continued on his way.

XXXX

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call, all right?" Gage said into the phone. "How you holding up?"

"Not so hot," he heard Dylan say. "I mean, I was pissed at him for what he did in Albuquerque, and for being so nasty when he broke us up...but now, considering what's happened, I just feel sad. He didn't ask to be hit by a drunk driver. You said he jumped?"

"Straight up in the air," said Gage. Repeating what he had been told by both Elizabeth and Edric Dressler, he explained, "He jumped up and went through the windshield, but the force was still so great that he still got hurt very badly. If he had been hit by the car's grill, he would have been killed instantly."

She sighed. "I almost wish he were, now that he's a vegetable."

Gage didn't speak. "I'm sorry," Dylan said. "That was horrible."

"No, I understand. I don't like the idea of him being hooked up to those tubes either."

"And you? How are you, Gage?"

He thought of the Boarder. "Angry." Of Zoey. "Betrayed." Of Ethan and his ever-entertaining eccentricities. "Sad."

"And the other ASPS?"

"Michelle's pretty broken up. Wehrung too. Karis not so much, which I can see, since she never knew him for that long. As for the rest of the student body, their reactions range from happiness to indifference."

"Happiness?!" Dylan exclaimed, shocked but also curious.

"Pretty much."

"Little pieces of…..gah. I thought some of the Academy could be bad, but….Jesus, was he really that horrible to everyone?"

"In his own, subtle way, pretty much."

There was a prolonged silence, then he heard Dylan sigh sadly. "Anything else you want to tell me, Gage?"

He would have also told her that he hadn't been taking his schizophrenia medication for a week now. If he had remembered that he had forgotten to take it. "No, that's pretty much it. I'm kinda restraining myself from throwing some punches at people. Although god knows Ethan deserved some punches thrown at him."

He could hear a chuckle from Dylan's end, which lifted his spirits ever so slightly. In the past week, laughter was hard to come by. Laughter that wasn't derisive or mocking, that is.

XXXX

"He dude, sorry," said Karbacki as Gage walked in to journalism. "He was a cool dude."

"You're the first and last person to tell me that," Gage said. Without saying anything else, he walked over to his computer and started pulling up webpages, looking for other potential stories in the community to write about.

**Downtown strip club burns to the ground**. "Garrett, you and your light shows."

**Cineplex movie theater to add new screen**. "Eh."

**Girl weeps, runs off-stage before accepting self-esteem award**. "Not exactly well-earned, then," he muttered.

After another ten or so minutes of looking through online headlines, Gage gave up. For a suburb so large, not that much happened in Lawndale. Special events were scarce and scandals had to be invented. He didn't expect journalism to be boring, but it was. And the idea of interviewing and people and digging into the personal lives of others did not appeal to Gage in the slightest.

Gage walked over to a desk where there was another copy of the latest paper and read Zoey's article on Ethan again.

_What happened?_

Ethan got hit by a car. He's still in surgery.

Oh god. How bad is he?

I don't know, I don't know. I don't know what to do, Gage. My mom's out of the state, we haven't heard from Edric in a while, and my dad's doing the surgery.

Elizabeth? Elizabeth? Hello?

Yeah. Uh, I'm still here.

Everything's going to be….no, not now! 

Gage ground his teeth at the memory of Daniels ordering him to hand the phone over to Zoey.

_Gage? What's going on?_

Listen, I have to give you to someone else.

For what?

Just….answer the questions and it will all be over quickly. I'm sorry, Liz. I'll call you later.

Okay. 

"Everyone!" Daniels's booming voice reverberated across the room. "Want to talk to you all about the recent issue of the paper."

"Everyone loves it!" Mina Badger exclaimed.

Daniels gave her a scathing look. "Really?" His gaze turned on Zoey, who shrunk in her seat. Gage was too angry at her to feel pleasure in her discomfort. "Then why did I get several angry calls from the Dressler family over several erroneous details?" Daniels hissed. "Like the fact that Ethan Dressler wasn't even driving? That he did not have a cell phone on him? And that there wasn't any car with children in it?"

The room was now dead silent. As Daniels's face became steadily redder, in turn did Zoey's become whiter. "Unless we issue a public apology and an admittance of error next issue, the Dressler family will not only sue the Boarder, but will cease donations to the school. As you can imagine, a lot of people are not happy with this. I'm. Not. Happy." Slowly, he marched up to Zoey, who was trying her very best to look small, defenseless. Innocent.

"I am holding you responsible. Because of your incompetence, both my position as advisor and my neck are on the line. As of now, you are no longer allowed in this classroom. Find another teacher to humiliate. As of this moment _right now_, you are no longer writing for this paper. AND YOU." Gage almost jumped when he realized he was being addressed. "You are on probation. No articles from you are being published in the next issue. Are we clear?"

Gage held back from calling Daniels an assortment of colorful names, as well as asking for the reasoning behind this punishment. Instead, he gave a curt nod.

"Good," Daniels said. "Now all of you, get back to work and find me some better stories. And from now on, FACT CHECK!"

The rest of the Boarder staff pretended to be focused on their prospective desk as Zoey, crying, packed up her things and shuffled out. As Gage wrote some notes on the latest 'endeavours' of the Warville students, Karbacki sat down next to him. "Hey man. He's just pissed. Dude's probably kicking himself over the fact that he let that crap article get put out to print. Wait until his PMS has subsided, then you can get back to writing lies."

Gage ran his hands through his hair. "That's all this damned paper is, isn't it?"

Karbacki gave him a somewhat bemused half-grin. "Didn't you ever read it before you signed on?"

"Um," Gage mumbled, his face flushing, "No. I joined because I wanted to diversify my writing."  
"You shoulda taken some kinda poetry seminar, then," Karbacki snorted. "Because here, the only thing differentiating the Boarder from Globe is that the Globe comes up with a lot more creative BS."

As Karbacki walked off, Gage pushed away his notebook and allowed himself a moment to reflect: _Writing stifled, and I can't publish. Bad. Zoey kicked out of Boarder. Good? Ethan still a veggie. Bad. Boarder turns out to be Jurassic Park. Bad. Conclusion: Today can't possibly get….no, don't jinx yourself. Let's go with, things can only get better? Yeah, that'll get me through today. Hopefully. _

XXXX

As he walked into Ms. Ramada's French class, Gage immediately knew something was amiss when a girl with platinum-blonde hair was triumphantly holding the newest issue of the paper aloft.

"Ding dong, the bastard's dead!" Sue Bentley shouted triumphantly, as though she had personally run Ethan over. Gage's insides coiled up as he sat down at his desk and tried to ignore her, and the feeling of rage boiling in his stomach.

"Serves him right," Sue Bentley laughed as she held up her copy of the Boarder triumphantly. "He always was a goddamn a-hole." She turned to another student sitting nearby. "You know he kidnapped me? Threatened me?"

_Liar! _Gage mentally shouted.

"Aw, you sad, little emo boy?"

Gage knew who she was talking to. He made no indication that he had heard.

"Oh, so you aren't upset, either? Join the club." Bentley turned back to her giggling friends. "No loss to the world, anyhow. He would have grown up to be a rapist anyway, somehow."

Gage's fingernails slowly, noisily scraped across the surface of his desk.

"To Ethan Dressler! May the scumbag rot in hell! Whenever he decides to go and die on us, that is. Can't be soon enough."

All of a sudden, a switch in Gage's head was flipped. He felt his vision blurring, his self-control slipping. His fists clenched and he rose from his desk. Gage felt as though he were walking underwater. He took one step and the another, each one feeling longer than the last. He was a mere step away from Bentley.

It wasn't enough. It was never enough, the pranks they'd pulled on her. Humiliation wouldn't suffice. For this, for what she had said, pain was required.

Gage Thystun, who had never so much as hurt a fly in his entire life and never imagined himself acting in out like this out of anger, drew back his fist and swung it at Sue Bentley's mouth.

XXXX

Campus-security officer Garth McCarthy had seen it before: the palpable fear and rage on the victim's face. The screaming students. The blood. He had been at Fielding for ten years, and had dealt with many beatings like this. When he got down to it, he usually found that cheating friends, unfinished essays, and general stress were at the core of this.

But this...this was different. When he burst into Mrs. Ramada's class, the first thing he noticed was that John Williams was half-lying on the floor in shock, a red mark across one side of his face. McCarthy had seen Williams play lacrosse many times; he was large and aggressive, capable of lifting a grown man into the air. To see him so helpless was unsettling.

XXXX

The bell rang. Students quickly filed out of their classrooms to move on to the next period. But Michelle knew something was wrong; the usual sounds of hustle and bustle were interspersed with hushed whispers and ambulance sirens.

Someone bumped into her. "Hey, watch it!" she exclaimed. Animal. The chattering grew louder. There were some gasps, one or two screams.

Michelle felt her cane tap the foot of another student. She poked their shoulder and asked, "Excuse me, what's going on?"

"Some girl got the living crap beaten out of her," said a low, female voice. "She's being carted onto the ambulance."

"Michelle!" cried an obviously English voice.

"Karis? Where are you? Too much shouting!"

"Right here," she said. Karis scurried up to Michelle's side. "Something's going on. I heard someone got beaten up."

"That's what I heard, too. Come on, let's see if we, or rather you, can get a better view."

Karis swallowed, getting the implication. "You sure? Not sure if they'll like that."

"Word of advice, kid. When you're a bad-ass with a disability to boot, people generally tend to take two steps back in your presence. Excuse me!" she shouted as Michelle used the sweeping arc of her cane to create a path for her and Karis. They received a couple angry glances, but people stayed out of their way.

Once they got to the front of the crowd, Karis gapsed. "What, what?" Michelle said. "What's going on!"

"There's a girl on a stretcher. She has blonde hair and blood all over her uniform. I can't even tell who it is, she's been beaten so badly. She's bleeding all over. Who would do this?"

"A monster," Michelle said darkly.

The girl was lifted into the ambulance and was quickly sped away. Several policeman walked up to the crowd and shouted, "I need you all to get back, right now! All of you, get back!" Behind him, a couple policeman actually carried water cannons. Unheard by the students, one made several disparaging comments about the school's lack of control over its own students.

The doors to the building where the girl had been wheeled out opened. A policeman stepped out. He waved at whoever was still inside.

"I think they're bringing the perp out," Karis explained.

Two policeman half-dragged a student out. Karis gasped.

"What? Who is it?" Michelle asked.

"It's...oh my god."

XXXX

What disturbed McCarthy even more, however, was the plain nonchalance on Gage Thystun's face as he delivered blow after blow to Susan Bentley's face. There was no visible anger, no fear, no regrets. Nothing. The look in Gage's eyes was almost possessed as they peered into Susan's own terrified ones.

Garth sprung into action immediately. He ran up to Gage and lifted him bodily into the air, where he went completely slack, as though he had resigned himself to his inevitable fate. McCarthy carried him outside, where he set him down and slapped a pair of hand-cuffs onto Gage's wrists. "Kid," he said in a firm voice, "Do you know what you just did?"

His voice seemed to bring Gage back from whatever dark recess he had fallen into. The teen looked up fearfully at Garth with an expression of anxiety and confusion. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. Garth would have waited for as long as he could to hear what Gage would have said, but a huge crowd students was bearing in. "God damn it," Garth swore. He waved his arms at the encroaching students. "Get back! All of you! Get back or else! Do not come near him!"

There were jeers and screams, and seeing that the crowd was more than he could handle, Garth grabbed Gage's sleeve. "C'mon, kid!" he shouted. He pulled him bodily to his feet and led him back inside Ramada's classroom.

Mrs. Ramada saw him and paled. "What are you doing?!" she screeched. "You can't bring that monster back in here!"

"Unless you want that crowd to tear him apart, Lou-Anne, he stays in here. Where's your phone? I need to call for some help." After she pointed the nearby set out to him, Garth looked at Gage and said, "Sit down kid, and don't say anything. You know what Miranda rights are?"

Gage's face paled. He nodded.

"Good." McCarthy took the phone and called 911, asking for crowd control.

"We'll be there in a few minutes, sir."

"Good. And get an ambulance here, too. The victim's hurt pretty badly."

"Got it, sir. Help's coming, hold down the fort."

"I'll try." He hung up the phone. Outside, he could hear more students approaching. He wouldn't try to brave them, no chance in hell; Fielding students were rabid.

He glanced at Bentley. She was on the ground, crying. Blood was pouring from a cut on her nose and on her cheek. Some of her classmates knelt next to her, saying comforting things to her while giving Gage dirty looks, but not saying anything to him. He kept his eyes planted firmly on the ground.

Kneeling by him, McCarthy shook his head. "Was it worth it?" he asked Gage. He did not expect an answer and his expectations were satisfied. "Something like this, kid? It's probably going to get you expelled. I'm going to hand you off to Michaelas once you're out of here."

Gage kept his head bowed. McCarthy spied a tear drop to the tiled floor. Suddenly, he could hear sirens outside. "Come on," he said. He brought Gage outside, where students were being pushed away by other cops. One of them was holding something that made McCarthy's jaw drop. "Is that a water cannon?" he exclaimed, surprised.

The policeman holding it, who looked no older than twenty, laughed and said, "Kids are dogs. Private-school kids are rabid bitches in heat, man. Gotta come prepared."

Knowing that the main office was on the other side of campus, McCarthy asked another policeman to borrow his car, which he was allowed. Before he pulled Gage to his feet to put him in the cruiser, McCarthy heard two desperate cries of, "Gage!"

He looked, and saw the blind girl and the red-headed one looking at Gage, both looking desperate and confused. The were obviously afraid for him. Sighing at it all, McCarthy carted Gage off, put him into the cruiser, and drove him to Michaelas.

XXXX

One of the newer on-campus policemen had to half-drag Gage into the headmaster's office after Garth handed him over. Gage was trying his best not to cry, but it was proving difficult. He had immediately regretted what he did, and he knew the consequences were going to be ugly.

In the headmaster's office, Michaelas sat at his desk, looking stern, but slightly sad. At the far left of the room sat an old man wearing a dark blue suit, with a book resting in his lap, which he was reading intently.

"Mr. Thystun," Michaelas started. The headmaster had hoped he wouldn't have to say this whole speech for another few years. "After the paintball-shooting incident, acts of violence that could be considered physically harmful and/or frightening carry the penalty of maximum punishment. You may recall a PA announcement explaining that? It was repeated every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for three weeks?"

Gage nodded; he was one of the few people who read the giant memo. Most students had deleted.

"Are you aware that your actions have caused the serious injury of another student? And thus, you are liable for full punishment, and possible legal action by a third party?"

There was a choking sound that could have been made from a dying animal. Gage realized it was himself. He nodded slightly.

"I have no choice, Mr. Thystun," Michaelas sighed. "I'm afraid that I'll have to lobby for your expulsion with the Disciplinary Council."

At this point, Gage started to weep, but he didn't protest. His actions had consequences, and he had to accept them. But that didn't mean the whole thing hurt any less: His friends were here. The only people who understood him. He would be taken away from them. _No no no no no no. _Red-eyed, he looked up at Michaelas, who looked almost as pained as Gage. "Is there anything I can do for a lesser punishment? Anything?"

"That won't be necessary," said a gravelly voice.

Gage and Michaelas both turned to the old man on the bench. Michaelas asked carefully, "What do you mean, Josiah?"

The old man did not take his eyes off his book. "I wasn't talking to you. _Mikey_." He looked up and looked at Gage. "Do you know who I am, boy?"

"N-no."

The old man grinned. Many of his teeth were missing. "I practically own this dump." Michaelas gasped at that, offended. The old man continued, "I've accumulated quite a bit of wealth over the years. Mostly from compound interest, and a little bit from foreign trade. Not that I'm older than dirt, I decided I'd give some of my wealth back to my own alma mater. I provide quite a bit of Fielding's funding." He gave Michaelas a knowing smirk. "Ten percent in fact."

The headmaster's eyes widened as he realized he was being threatened. "You wouldn't."

The old man stood up. He was exceptionally tall, even when hunched over. His tone became serious, and his smile vanished. "I would. The boy stays here."

Michaelas didn't completely relent. "I'll suspend him. Two weeks. He'd be getting off easy."

"Fine. _Mikey._" He gestured to Gage. "Come with me, boy."

Confused, he followed the old man out. Wiping at his eyes, he asked, "Why'd you do that for me?" after the were clear of Michaelas's office.

"Well, I didn't come here exactly for that little performance back there. My daughter asked me to come and talk to Michaelas about a certain issue. I was going to exact a certain form of revenge for said issue, but then I heard you did that already."

Gage frowned at him, confused. "Do you have something against the Bentleys?" he guessed.

"No boy." He looked at Gage. The old man's eyes were a bright blue, but something about them seemed...darkly gleeful. He grinned. "That little bit back in that old gasbag's office was my way of saying thank you." The grin vanished immediately once again. "But don't think I'm going to do this again for you again. My daughter would say a man needs to fight his own battles. And my grandson would probably find some fancy way of telling you not to be a pussy. But with a more advanced vocabulary."

"Your grand…." Gage realized who this was. The height and barely-suppressed condescension should have given it away immediately. They had seemed so familiar. "Josiah Armistad?"

Ethan's mother's father gave a crooked smile. "I'd like to thank you again, for beating that girl to a pulp."

Paling, Gage whispered, "I shouldn't have done that. It was wrong for me to do that."

"Then why did you, boy?"

"I don't know," he said, only half-believing it. That scared him.

Josiah snorted at that, doubtful. "However you feel about it doesn't matter to me, boy." He leaned in close to Gage; he smelled like rotting eggs. "But I'm going to make this clear to you. Don't expect something like this again; not from the Dresslers or the Armistads. This was a one-time deal. We don't clean up mistakes out of the goodness of our hearts on a whim."

As they walked out of the office together, they encountered a group of students. To his horror, Gage recognized them as the lax bros whom he had often seen pining for Bentley's affections. And they were all glaring daggers at him. He felt suddenly very small.

"Wooh, you really ruffled a few feathers, boy," Josiah smirked. "I doubt that anyone's going to forget this for a while."

Gage knew that too. He realized that for the rest of his Fielding career, he would probably be both feared and hated. "I should have let Michaelas expel me," he said softly.

"Well, then go back in there and ask him too, boy," Josiah grumbled, suddenly angry now that it appeared that his efforts were for naught. "Just make sure these girls here don't tear you apart in the process. Ciao."

Josiah hobbled away, and in an instant, Gage was surrounded by a half-dozen angry, beefed-up teenagers. "You hurt Susan," said one. "We're going to mess you up."

"Look," Gage said, holding his hands in the air apologetically, "I'm sorry. I was just really upset, she was saying horrible things about my friend, I'm going to apologize to her over GAH!" He gasped as the first punch dug into his stomach. Winded, he fell to one knee and coughed. "Wait-" a boot made contact with his back, and he fell to the ground. There was laughter and shouts of derision, and he felt another boot in his side. He would have screamed, but he felt another kick and all the wind was forced out. For a moment, he felt too tired to care.

Something hard and cold hit his head with a loud thwack, there was a loud, piercing ringing, and a suffocating darkness took Gage Thystun.

-Thanks to Roentgen for beta-reading!


	15. Exit the Tailor

"It's your first day, my boy," Michael Harris reminded his grandson as he leaned against the door-frame of Gage's room. "Nervous?"

"Not particularly," Gage said. He turned and blinked at his grandfather, a pair of wire-frame glasses sitting on his nose. He wore a black overcoat over a white shirt that said "Depeche Mode" and faded jeans. A black choker with a silver band on it circled around his throat. "It's a public school. If it's anywhere near as nasty as Fielding, I'll know to get the hell out of the state."

"Good luck with that," Michael smirked. He held up a brown paper bag. "Made you lunch."

Taking it, Gage regarded the bag with a melancholy smile. "You haven't done that for me since middle school."

"It's a special occasion. You're going to a new school; your first day is going to be somewhat exhausting."

"I hope not. I've had enough aggravation lately…"

XXXX

"Crap, crap, what do we do, what do we do?" Karis exclaimed with panic as a ravenous group of lax bros began to beat Gage.

"I'm going over there!" Michelle exclaimed, hefting her cane in the air. She gasped when she felt a hand tightly grab her wrist. She almost lashed out before Wehrung said, "You can't fight lax bros! They'll pulverize you! And there's too many!" He let go of her wrist.

Michelle bit her lip and twisted nervously, pulling at her hair as she tried to think of what they could do. Then she snapped her fingers. "Wehrung! The Underhill Machination!"

For a moment, Wehrung felt panic overtake him when he realized he had no idea what Michelle meant. But as the adrenaline kicked in, he snapped his fingers too and said, "On it!" He sprinted off to his dorm.

Karis could only watch as the girls began to kick the boy as he laid on the ground. Her hands clasped over her mouth, she breathed, "Oh god," over and over.

Bouncing with apprehension and a crushing anxiety, Michelle whispered, "Come on..."

There was a blaring noise. The lax bros recognized the fire alarm. One of them motioned to the others to head to the parking lot, where students were supposed to head in case of a fire. One of them gave Gage one last kick before they jogged off.

Wehrung let out a stream of curse words as he sprinted over to Gage's crumpled form, with Karis in close pursuit, guiding Michelle by the hand.

When she heard Karis gasp, Michelle asked, afraid to hear the answer, "How bad is he?"

"Bad," Wehrung swallowed. "Really bad. As in 911 bad. Karis, go call an ambulance." The eighth-grader sprinted off. "Michelle, you and I are going to heft him off to the nurse's office. He isn't conscious, so we're going to have to grab opposite ends. You're stronger; take his shoulders. I got his feet, I'll tell you where to go."

"My cane-"

"Uh….leave it. We'll come back for it later."

Michelle felt around for Gage's shoulders. Her hand passed over something coarse and wet. Rubbing her fingers together, she realized it was blood. She fought the sudden nausea and found one shoulder, then the other. She hefted him up with ease, and Wehrung lifted Gage's feet. "All right, turn left. Then go!"

As they scurried away, holding the unconscious form of their friend, Michelle heard the deafening pit-pat of blood dripping onto the pavement.

XXXX

_Where am I? Gage said out loud. It was dark. There was darkness everywhere._

Within the recesses of your own mind, answered a cold voice.

Ethan? said Gage.

The ASP stepped into view, and Gage almost screamed. His mangled body was completely covered in blood, strips of flesh were missing, his teeth were all gone, and bones were poking out of his joints. But the yellow eyes burned brighter than ever. You're having a bad day, Thystun.

What's happening?  
You've probably fallen unconscious, and your mind has created me to reveal to you your subconscious thoughts. Granted, I'm not sure why I look like roadkill, but whatever. So Thystun, before you wake up, heed my advice. You beat up Bentley. Kudos to you for that. There are some who will hail you as a hero for that. There are others who will beat the living crap out of you for turning what they perceived as high-end-ass into Madam Mim. If I were you, I'd take a break.

From what?

You don't need me to tell you that. Ethan stepped up to him. Now, wake up! Suddenly, Ethan's teeth had grown back, but they were all incisors. With a hiss, he lunged.

Gage's eyes flew open and it hurt. His body felt like lead, and his eyes were being burned by the light. The inside of his mouth felt dry, and he could feel something tickling the inside of his nose. He made a small groaning sound.

"Gage?!" Suddenly, his grandfather and the other ASPS were all surrounding him.

"How are you feeling?" Michelle asked.

He was too weak to speak. All Gage could muster was a single thumb pointing downwards before he lost consciousness again.

The next time he awoke, the other ASPS were gone. Michael Harris was in the corner of the room, reading a book. Before he could say anything, Gage suddenly felt exhausted, and lost consciousness once more.

He opened his eyes again, and this time he did not feel as weary, but his head throbbed instead. Instead of Michael, Wehrung was sitting in the corner. He had cut his hair back to the length it had been during their freshman year, and he wasn't wearing his eyepatch.

"Dude," Gage whispered hoarsely. "Cover that up. I don't want to puke."

"Oh!" Wehrung exclaimed. He put the patch back on and scurried over to Gage's bedside. "You're awake! How ya feeling?"

"Not good. I feel like my head is going to explode."

"You got kicked in the head at one point. And speaking of that…" Gage noticed his friend was holding a mirror. Wehrung had an unsure look on his face.

"You wanna look, or no?" Wehrung asked.

Gage sighed, knowing that whatever he was about to see wasn't going to pretty. "Might as well be now. Show me." Wehrung held up the mirror, but Gage realized that his vision was still blurry. He'd thought it had been from his grogginess. "What happened to my contacts?"

"Doctors took them out. No idea why. Here are your glasses." Wehrung took them from the bedside table and handed them to Gage. "Your grandpa brought them."

"Where is he?"

"Having lunch downstairs."

As Gage put on his glasses, he came to a sudden, gut-wrenching realization. His hand flew to the bare right side of his face. "They cut my hair?" he said, horrified.

"They had to, man. That's where you got kicked. Had to get it out of the way."

Gage sagged back even further into the hospital pillows. "Give me the mirror, please."

"Okay. But I'm warning you now; you look like a heroin-user on bad day."

Wehrung handed it to him. With some effort, Gage sat up and looked at himself with horrified revulsion; his hair had been cut, there were cuts and bruises all over his face, and for a moment he thought he still had his eyeliner, until he realized he had two black eyes.

"I'll tell ya," Wehrung said, "You've taken one hell of a beating, man. Hey, you never know, this could somehow work to your advantage, in some twisted way. Some girls like guys with scars, maybe you'll get a…..ah, hell."

Gage had started to cry. His face scrunched up as he sank back into his pillow and sobbed. Now looking horrified himself at his own apparent lack of empathy, Wehrung knelt and put his hand on Gage's shoulder. "God, man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make light of this….I'm so so so so so so so sorry…" He stopped apologizing when Gage waved a hand at him through his tears, which he assumed to mean stop. After another minute, Gage managed to compose himself enough to say, "Can I be alone for a minute, please?"

"Sure man, whatever you want. Want me to go get your grandpa."

"No. Alone."

"Right. Sorry." Wehrung left the room and shut the door behind him.

Gage let himself cry for a little while longer, until he eventually felt calm enough to think clearly.

_I've had enough. Enough of Fielding. Enough of those people. Enough of the stress. Enough enough. I know what I want to do. It's going to kill me to do it. And them, too. But I need this. I want this.  
_  
XXXX

"You want to do what?!" Wehrung exclaimed with shock, his eye wide. He looked at Michelle and Karis to gauge their reactions. Michelle looked shocked as well, but Karis's expression was notably more somber. He looked back at Gage and tried to search his face for any hope of a lie. "You can't drop out on us!"

"I'm not dropping out," Gage croaked. Suddenly he winced, clutching at his chest. Karis handed him a cold-pack, which he gratefully accepted. After placing it on his torso, he looked up wistfully at the other ASPS. "I already talked to Michaelas. I can attend my new school as a sort of independent study project while still being technically enrolled at Fielding. And he agreed with me that I should take time off."

"For how long? Please say not long," Michelle pleaded.

"I don't know, Michelle," he said. "I just don't know."

"Why?" Wehrung asked, genuinely confused. "Why would you leave?"

"I'll give you the short answer," Gage said. "Because I don't want to go native."

Both Michelle and Wehrung frowned at that. "Guys, I beat up Sue Bentley. Yeah, we all wanted to do that, but by doing so I basically sunk to her level. Now, I won't be able to go anywhere in Fielding without either being praised or cursed for doing something I never should have done. Do you guys understand that?"

"Yes," Karis said almost immediately. When she and Gage exchanged looks, a mutual understanding between them was exchanged. Wehrung saw this, and recalling his nighttime talk with Karis all those weeks ago, he suddenly understood.

He walked over to Gage and carefully put his hand on Gage's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "You do whatever you have to do, dude," he said with a sad smile.

Looking very forlorn, Michelle shrugged her shoulders. With a sigh, she said, "Well, at least we can still go and see you on the weekends."

Weakly, Gage managed a smile. "I'll find you guys. Thanks for understanding. And don't worry; someday, I'll come back. I don't know when exactly, but some day. With difficulty, he raised his arms. "Group hug? Just don't kill me."

Karis and Wehrung were there first, and Michelle shuffled over to envelope them all. Some of them began to cry.

Micheal Harris quietly opened the door, but when he saw the four in the embrace, he shut the door again just as softly.

XXXX

"We're here," Michael announced. "New school."

Gage looked out the window at Lawndale High; students were just being released for lunch-time. "Hopefully, none of them will recognize me from that time when Fielding kicked their butts at paintball," he joked. "But I don't expect much of hassle. You'll come pick me up at three?"

"At three. Good luck, my boy."

"Thanks, gramps." Gage opened the car door, carefully swinging his backpack onto his shoulders while balancing himself on the wooden cane he had been temporarily provided. "Don't get lost on the way back."

"Humph. Smart-ass. Bye!"

"Bye," Gage said. He waved goodbye as his grandfather took off, he took a deep sigh and limped his way towards Lawndale High. He looked around; there were students running around, laughing, telling bad jokes, smoking. _Same as Fielding, but so far, no outright hostility. Just keep optimistic Gage, be optimistic-_

"Hey!"

Gage realized the shout was directed at him. He turned to look at two girls sitting on the school's front lawn. One was wearing a green jacket, combat boots, and glasses three times the size of his own, while the girl in the red jacket seemed surprisingly familiar…

"Aren't you one of the Lords?"

Taken aback at being recognized from the ASPS's Zon career, he said, "Uh, yeah, I'm Gage. And you're…"

"Jane."

"Jane...oh!" he smiled and snapped his fingers in triumph. "You're Trent's sister!"

"You know this guy?" frowned the girl in the green jacket.

"Not personally, but yeah," Jane confirmed, "I've met him. Whatcha doing here, drummer boy? Snobs at Fielding finally got fed up with your hair?"

"No. It was the eyeliner. Thought it was too different. They had to get rid of me before I infected the rest of the school with my apparent emo-ness," he smirked. That got Jane to smile.

"In all seriousness, I had to take a break after an...incident." He tapped his finger against the hook of the cane. "Which, by the way, I'm not particularly eager to discuss. Just saying." He gave a glance at the girl in the green jacket. "Sorry, I didn't ask for your name."

"Daria."

"Name's Gage. Gage Thystun."

Daria frowned. "Is that supposed to be a kind of foreign name?"

"No idea. I was adopted."

"Oh," she blanched.

Noticing her discomfort, he was quick to assuage her embarrassment. "It's all right, I get that sometimes. No need to worry. But I'm kinda worried myself…" he reached inside one of the pockets of his overcoat and withdrew his schedule. Unfolding it, he handed it to Jane and asked, "Do you know where my fifth-period room is?"

"Defoes? It's-" suddenly, the bell rang. As Daria and Jane collected their things, Jane continued, "It's our next class too. Want to tag along?"

"I'd be happy to. Nice to have someone familiar to tag along with! Thanks."

"No problamo."

"Don't fall behind," Daria droned.

"Well, if I do," Gage intoned in return, "You're always welcome to kick my behind with those boots of yours."

Daria almost laughed at that, but she retained her composure and gave him a curt, "Noted."

As the two talked quietly amongst themselves as they headed inside, Gage thought, _So far, so good._ The prospect of possibly returning to Fielding was beginning to slip further and further away.


	16. This is Our Fight

Those who knew Roan Breckenridge knew that she was not the passive type of person. If she saw a task to be done, a paper to be completed, someone who needed sense knocked (metaphorically) into them, she was the girl for the job. She would see anything through to the end, no matter how long it took or how hard it was, just because it was how she worked. That was why the Mafia inducted her in the seventh grade, as its very first female member.

Roan was a girl with blonde hair in a pixie cut, with dull-blue eyes and a wiry frame. She had high cheekbones owing from her Russian heritage, a long nose, and an equally-long neck. Erect as a fence-post and just as unbending, she was a straight-A junior who was often the object of the attention from many boys, for both her looks and her brain. _They're swimming in the wrong pool_, she often thought when they hit on her. But Roan tried to keep as positive an attitude as possible, so that people would find her approachable, which was either easy or hard, depending on which of her peers she had to subject herself to. Nevertheless, Roan was a people person and she knew it; that was also why she was a chief recruiter for the Mafia. She'd managed to induct seven new members in the past year alone.

On a quiet Sunday night, Dmitri Vagin, known to the rest of the Mafia as the Don, called a meeting of a few top-ranking Mafia members, which included Roan and Julian Townes, a black senior with a Canadian accent who was responsible for training the other members of the Mafia in karate. They met in one of the dozens of Fielding's basements, with only a portable camping lamp to illuminate the table where Dmitri had spread his notes. He looked up and scanned those who were present before frowning. "Where's Terry?"

"Right here!" The chubby boy briskly glided down the stairs, buttoning up his shirt. Grinning, he stepped up next to Roan and gave a salute to Dmitri.

She smirked half-heartedly at him. "Getting more…" she eyed his unbuttoned shirt, "Roast beef?"

"You bet!" Terry said happily.

She sighed in playful exasperation. "Again?"

"You would too, if you had ever experienced such sultry delights yourself, my darling Roan."

Eyeing the bit of stomach poking out from under the bottom of his shirt, she chuckled and quipped, "Well, if you're any indicator, I'm not missing much."

"All right, all right," intoned Dmitri, although he was grinning himself. He waved a hand for silence. "No more making fun of Terry. It's too easy."

"Hey!" Terry protested.

Dmitri ignored him and picked up a picture off the table, revealing a boy with dark hair that draped itself over his right eye. "I'm sure you guys are familiar with Gage Harris, real name Gage Thystun?"

There were nods. "He got the living crap beaten out of him last week and ended up dropping out as a result," Roan recounted. From the inside of her Fielding blazer, she withdrew a smaller photograph. "Now he looks like _this_."

The mobsters took a closer look. Lisa and Terry both recoiled: Gage's hair had been almost completely cut away, revealing a massive, bloodied bandage. There were several cuts and lacerations all over his face. He looked like he'd been cut with a knife. Roan had paid a visit to Lawndale general, telling the doctors she was his cousin in order to get into his room to take the photograph.

"While we've never gotten concrete proof that he's gay too," said Dmitri, "I say the hairdo, the makeup, and the tailoring are pretty solid indicators. So, we have to find those responsible for hurting him and make them sorry." He looked at Julian. "Your job is to get materials we might need once Terry and I come up with a suitable plot. So just to be on the safe side, go get some ski caps."

"And me?" Roan asked.

"_You _are going to find out who did this. Get names, and be discreet about it, as always."

"Naturally," she smiled.

"Then what happens?" Julian asked.

"Then we execute our master plan, and conquer the world!" Terry exclaimed, twiddling his fingers as though he were a super-villain before emitting a very loud-over-the-top laugh, which only earned him eye-rolls.

XXXX

The next day, in the early hours of the morning, Roan walked into the nurse's office, a white, sterile room about as large as the average classroom. Trying with all her might not to look at the bandages, needles, or disinfectant, she scanned the room and noticed the closed door in the corner of the room that led to the adjoining office for the nurse. _An office within an office._ For some reason, Roan felt that that was just odd. She shrugged the feeling off. "Ms. Baker?" she called.

The door creaked open. A heavyset, middle-aged woman with braided hair emerged and smiled when she saw her visitor. "Roan! How are you, honey?"

Smiling back, Roan said cheerfully, "I'm great, thanks. How's your day been? More splinters to remove?"

Baker rolled her eyes. "Oh, you have no idea. Splinters, owies, booboos, you'd think I was treating a bunch of little kids, the way they carry on. And I have to listen to them whine about how much homework they have to do, who's been cheating on who, yada yada yada as I treat them."

"I can relate," Roan said. "Used to be the last nurse's TA, after all." She tried her best not to shudder at the memories. "You wouldn't believe the stories I've heard."

"Heh, I'll bet. So honey, what can I do for you? Because you don't appear to be bleeding."

"Oh, I just had a quick question," Roan said earnestly. "Gage, ah...Harris was brought in here when he got beaten up, right?" She tried her best to sound unsure.

Baker's expression became somber. "Oh, yes." She indicated a table in the corner. "I put him there. Poor baby was beaten within an inch of his life. In my three years here, I've never seen anything as bad as that. First time I've ever had to call nine-one-one for one of my own patients. Why do you ask?"

"Well, because I'm writing an article about it in the Boarder," Roan fibbed, "And I need to interview whoever brought him in. Are you allowed to tell me?"

"Oh, well…" the nurse looked unsure as she tried to recall the students. "I, ah, I didn't get their names, but it was that boy with the eye-patch, the blind girl, and a red-head with sun-glasses. They should be easy for you to find!" she concluded cheerily, as though she had solved a great mystery.

Roan smiled in return. "Thanks Ms. Baker! I really appreciate it."

"No problem, honey!"

Walking out of the nurse's office, Roan withdrew a small pad of paper and took a pencil out from behind her ear. At the bottom of a list of names, she wrote, GAGE'S HELPERS/WITNESSES. WEHRUNG, SMITH, RED-HEAD WITH SUNGLASSES. Most students on campus knew the names of the only one-eye'd boy and and blind girl, but the sunglasses girl..._Wasn't she the girl who threw an egg back at Lori Lincoln? And Wehrung and Michelle were there, so I think it's a good guess that they're friends. Just need to find out the red-head's name…_

At first, she considered going to Jonathan Card and asking him if he'd let her look at some of the registration information, as he'd been known by the Mafia to do that in years previous, but she remembered that he just went off to Berkeley. _Crap. Well, could always ask around..._but she knew that would take too long and look very suspicious. There was one option that was quicker and easier, however.

Roan stuffed handfuls of leaves into both her pocket and walked behind the main office. She looked around, making sure that there was nobody in sight. She took a deep breath. _All right, here I go._

Taking the leaves and made two piles, Roan set them at least ten feet apart. Then, she took her makeup mirror out of her pocket, and angled it so that a beam of light hit the edge of one of the piles. After a few seconds, it caught fire, and then she did the same to the other pile. A smell akin to that of burning mold filled her nostrils. She walked around the building and walked through the office's front door and sat in a chair. Roan hoped she didn't look more nervous than she felt.

After about two minutes, someone outside screamed, "Fire!" Then, a seventh-grade boy with huge eyes burst into the office and screamed, "There's a fire behind the office!" When the aging secretary and her assistant gave him blank looks, he screamed "There's a fire!" again, and that roused them. The assistant, a lumbering girl, yanked a fire extinguisher off the wall and ran out the back, with the secretary and the boy in close pursuit. Immediately, Roan climbed over the counter and dashed to the filing cabinet where she had seen John Card put the binder containing the information of all registered students. Thankfully, it was unlocked. Roan took the binder, opened it up, and removed all the pages from it before folding them into quarters and stuffing the papers into her jacket before walking out.

The office, being so shocked after having to put out two fires, did not realize the binder had been pilfered until the secretary found the folded-up papers in her mailbox later that night.

XXXX

"Found out anything yet?" Dmitri asked Roan as they sat together, eating their lunch. In  
Dmitri's case, however, he was avoiding eat the school-provided sandwiches for fear of gaining weight.

"Well, I know who brought Gage into the nurse's office," Roan said. "It was his friends, so they'll probably be eager to tell us whoever beat him up. I got all their names."

"I don't suppose you had anything to do with that little inferno behind the main office yesterday?"

Roan smirked proudly. "Who, me? Perish the thought!"

"Well, that makes things easier for us," Dmitri mumbled as he took a swill of stale apple juice, which he fought hard to swallow. After wiping his mouth with a grimace on his face, he said, "Terry and I came up with the revenge plot."

"Oh?" she asked curiously

"Well, before I explain that, let me talk about something else. Since we don't know quite yet which laxholes beat up Gage, _if_ all those guys were laxholes. So we need to find out who they were, and when we do, we'll set up a fake meeting that will be across town at the abandoned warehouse."

Roan raised an eyebrow. "The place is crawling with spiders and rats. Nobody would go within half a mile of there."

He shrugged. "I'll say there are some horny girls coming to the place. Might name a few names. Like Gina Weller-

"Who?"

"Senior girl, long legs, looks like a supermodel?" Dmitri said.

"No idea," shrugged Roan.

"Oh. Well, her and maybe a couple Topsienne."

"All right. And once we get them there?" she asked.

At this point, Dmitri leaned in and whispered, "We'll take one of them out, beat him up, then throw him back in and leave them there until dawn."

"Hm. Bit extreme."

"But necessary. But you gotta find out who these guys are ASAP, Capiche?"

"All-righty. After classes are done today, I'll go talk to one his friends. But there's a big problem."

"What?"

"They all have vision problems," Roan pointed out. "Wehrung has one eye, Michelle's blind, and I hear that red-head has to wear those sunglasses to avoid burning out her eyes. She's new here anyways, so she probably doesn't know any of those girls' names yet."

"You never know. In any case, start with Wehrung first, see what you can figure, then go talk to the red-head."

"All right. And Dmitri?"

"Hm?"

Her face became serious, her tone steely. "I just want you to know that I won't object to this whole plot of yours, but I'm not going to be around for you to beat up anyone. All right?"

He looked disappointed somewhat, but he gave an assenting nod. Roan stood up from her table, tossed the remains of her lunch into the trash-can, and headed for class.

XXXX

After she knocked on the door, a black-haired boy with an equally-black eye-patch covering his left eye poked his head out and looked her up and down suspiciously. "Yes?" said Wehrung.

Roan smiled. "Hi, I'm Roan Breckenridge, I work for the Fielding Boarder," she lied. "You're Gage's friend, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm really sorry about what happened to him, but unfortunately, that's why I'm here. I'm doing an article about it in the paper. Can I interview you about it?"

She had immediately sized him up: untrusting and sheltered. Roan could understand that; she'd felt that way herself through most of middle school. It was the result of constant social rejection and being lied to over and over again. At least, in her case it had been. For a moment, she was worried that he was going to deny her, but he merely gave a ghost of a nod and opened his door without a word.

Trying her best to avoid the smell, she accepted the lone clear spot on his couch that he offered her, while he sat on his bed. "Well," he said, "Whatcha want to talk about?"

She withdrew her pad and pencil and smiled, which made Wehrung feel a little more at ease. "Well, how long have you known Gage?"

Suddenly, he became apprehensive. "How much will I be in this article?"

Shrugging, Roan said, "I can put you as anonymous, if you like?"

"Yes, please."

"All right."

"...oh. Yeah. So, ah, I've known Gage for about a year, he and I met through, erm…" Wehrung struggled to put his thoughts into words without revealing too much. Roan could immediately tell that he was being picky with his words, so he had something to hide. But for now, that was irrelevant. "...through circumstances. You know, people know people who can help you write an essay, things like that."

"Did you pass?"

"What?"

"Your essay? Did he help you at all?"

"Oh, uh, yeah! He did."

"Good to hear," Roan said. "So, the whole thing with Sue Bentley, what led up to that?"

Wehrung wrinkled his nose in uncertainty. "I, ah...I honestly don't know. He'd been kinda upset for a while?"

"Was it Ethan?"

Quick as a rattlesnake, his head darted up, one eye wide. "How do you know about that?"

Genuinely confused, Roan frowned at him and said, "Uh, he was you and Gage's friend, and he got hit by a car. I'm in the paper, Alex. I know things."

She wasn't sure what hit a nerve: acting like a know-it-all or calling him by his first name. Whatever the case, he suddenly became more stand-offish. "Any other questions?" he asked brusquely.

Her smile fell. Fearing that she had jeopardized her mission (and also feeling genuinely remorseful), she said, "I'm sorry if I upset you-"

"Uh huh. Any other questions?" he repeated.

She nodded. "Well, I know you helped to get Gage to the nurse's office. Did you see who hurt him?"

"Laxholes."

"Any specific ones?" _Oh, damn it Roan!_

He eyed her suspiciously. "Why do you care? You can't name names in the Boarder."

_Time to leave._ She slapped her forehead and laughed lightly. "You're right! Duh! Wow, I feel dumb now. Well, I guess I ought to go start taking stuff out of my article, then. Damn, I'd completely forgot…" she stood up and extended her hand. "Well, thanks for your time Mr. Wehrung."

Reluctantly, he shook it back. "You're welcome."

"I'll show myself out." Roan picked up her pad and left, closing the door behind her, while silently berating herself for being so sloppy. _But I have one more option. I gotta get to Blair._

Once he was sure she was gone, Wehrung picked up his phone and dialed a number. "Michelle? It's me. No, cut the crap. Listen, something weird just happened, you gotta go find Karis…"

XXXX

Roan knocked on the door marked K. Chapman. _Don't screw up, this time._ The small red-head opened her door and shrunk at the sight of someone taller than her. Roan was intrigued that even indoors, she still wore sunglasses. "Hi, ah," Karis said, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, you're a friend of Gage Thystun, right?"

Karis nodded meekly. "Is this about the beating?"

Roan nodded. "I'm a member of the Fielding Boarder. Can I ask you something about the beating?"

"Um, sure?"

"Did you see who did it? Like, can you name names?"

Suddenly, without warning, Karis broke down into sobs. She wiped her eyes and retreated back into her room, where she collapsed into her chair and continued to cry. Roan followed her in and patted her on the back. "I'm so sorry," she said desperately. _There are times when I truly hate this job._ "I didn't mean to upset you-"

"No, it's just," sniffed Karis, "Just that everything's been so horrible, I hate what those wankers did to Gage." She buried her face in her hands.

Sensing an opportunity, Roan said, "If you tell me who they are, I can make sure they get what they deserve."

Karis looked at her. Roan couldn't see anything behind the pitch-black sunglasses. "You can do that?" Karis asked. She wiped at another tear. When Roan nodded, Karis's face fell again and she said, "I don't know their names."

Roan sighed in defeat. "But," said Karis, injecting new hope into Roan, "I've heard that every Sunday afternoon, at six they hang out in that old, abandoned band room on the far side of the campus."

"You sure?"

Karis nodded.

"Thank you," Roan said gratefully. She gave the small English girl a hug. "I promise you, they'll get what's proper."

"Okay," Karis said somberly. She hugged Roan back.

Awesome! Roan thought. _Yeah, that room's a bit too close to home, but it's also abandoned. We can totally get away with this. _"Thank you, Karis."

Karis gave another sniffle. "Yeah," she said in a hushed tone. She gently separated herself from Roan, who soon took her leave. As soon as she was out of the door, Karis took off her sunglasses and removed the small slivers of raw onions that had been taped to the lenses. "Bloody hell did that stink," she said. Quickly, Karis went to her own phone and called Michelle.

"Yeah?"

"It's done."

"Okay."

"So. What are you going to do?"

There was a pause over the line, as Michelle asked herself the same question. On the one hand, she didn't want to get involved with the Mafia. She knew what they were capable of, as she had heard of their handiwork from many of her classmates. To get on their bad side was suicide.

But if they were going to go after the lax bros who'd hurt Gage, and she'd stake her life on it that they were..._We do not need help. And I for one don't want theirs._

"Michelle?"

"I'm here. I'm going to call Wehrung back, I think I have an idea." _I just hope that it doesn't come back to bite us in the ass. _

XXXX

Julian, Dmitri, Terry, and a half-dozen other members of the Mafia who would serve as the muscle were all masked and wearing black, creeping down the hallway toward the abandoned band room. Light crawled from under its door and splayed itself onto the wall opposite of it. They could hear chatter on the other side, and raucous laughter. Someone shouted, "I slammed that!"

Dmitri turned to the largest of their brethren, a hulking senior (and former lax bro himself) Charlie Yents. "Go in, pull one out, and take him out here and beat him," Dmitri ordered. "We'll bar the door."

"All right," Charlie whispered back. He took in a breath, put his hand on the doorknob, and charged through. Dmitri and the others braced themselves for the rush of angry lax bros, but it did not come. "Uh, guys?" Charlie called.

The rest of the team walked into the room. More than a few let out vulgar swear words when they saw that the room was completely empty. Someone kicked over a music stand in anger.

"We've been tricked," Julian said. He and some of the other members pulled off their masks.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Terry growled. He shoved a chair in his frustration. "That little twerp must have lied to Roan. Jean, go outside and get Roy, he can stop standing guard now."

"What were we hearing? The talking?" someone asked. True enough, they could still hear the vulgar shouts of lacrosse players.

"This," Dmitri said. He walked over to a cassette player that was connected to a pair of five-foot-high speakers, sitting on a stool. Through the transparent casing, he saw that the tape was marked, 'Recorded conversation of laxholes-1993. A.G.' Next to the cassette player was a piece of paper that said, 'This is our fight. Not yours.' "Oh, _that's_ interesting," said Dmitri. He put the note in his pocket and pressed the button to remove the cassette.

Everybody in the room was immediately deafened. Hair metal blasted out of the speakers at full volume in an orgy of screeching and squealing electric guitars. The Mafia found themselves clutching their ears and screaming, but they could not even hear themselves. Outside, Jean and Roy looked in horror at the wailing speakers that were connected to the building, and felt an ever deeper sense of terror when lights started to flicker on, all across the campus.

Clenching his teeth, Charlie walked behind the speakers and pulled their cords out, ending the sonic torture. No sooner had he done that did Jean and Roy run in, screaming for everyone to get out. But it was useless; the Mafiosi couldn't hear their pleas, and just stared in confusion as Jean and Roy waved their arms at them. And within a minute, Fielding's new campus security force had surrounded the building.

From her dorm window, Roan watched as her friends were taken away from the building in handcuffs. She felt a terrible fury within her, a fury at being _had_. And an even greater fury at being made a fool of by a goddamn middle schooler. "Chapman," she said out loud, "You're dead meat."

-Thanks to Roentgen for the beta-read! And for allowing me to take some personal liberties with how the Mafia operate.


	17. Seeing Red

Roan couldn't think. She was deaf and blind to the world. For now, there was only one thing she could focus on: Karis Chapman. The little brat had lied to her, and as a result, over half the Mafia had been rounded up by the Fielding fuzz. She was going to pay. _How_, Roan had yet to decide.

Under the cover of night, she crept up to the front door of Blair, her father's Swiss Army Knife in hand. She flicked open a thin metal rod, which she carefully inserted into the lock of the dorm's front door. Carefully, she twisted the rod around until she heard the satisfying click of an unlocked door. Roan glided into the building on slippered feet, and with only a key-chain flashlight to guide her, she crept up the dorm's stairs until she was on the second floor. She stalked down the hallway with rage still festering in her brain. She gripped the pocket-knife tightly in her hand.

She was only a few meters away from Karis's door when another opened. Roan stopped when a small middle-schooler with black pig-tails stopped and looked up at her with large, sleepy eyes. "Sorry," the girl yawned. "Had a bad dream. Need the bathroom. 'Scuse me."

Roan looked at the girl as if she were glowing green. "Oh, uh, sure." She stepped aside and let the girl go, watching her walk away and wondering how she could look so tiny and defenseless. Tearing her eyes away, Roan looked at Karis's dorm with a suddenly much clearer head. She looked at the Swiss Army Knife in her hand and felt herself take in a sharp breath. _Oh god, oh god, oh god. What was I just about to do?_ She received no answer. Roan's rage was suddenly replaced with terror, a crushing feeling of anxiety she could not shake. _I need to get out of here._Turning on her heel, a tight-chested Roan ran out of the building, not bothering to mask her heavy foot-falls.

Behind the door marked K. Chapman, Karis slept peacefully in her bed, while in a standard school-issue wooden chair, Michelle sat with her cane across her lap, one hand tightly gripping the shaft. Although her grip relaxed when she heard Roan flee, she did not let go the rest of the night.

XXXX

"Wehrung, just tell me," Gage pleaded over the phone. "Are you sure nobody can trace it back to you?"

"Those speakers were purchased by the school years ago," Wehrung explained from the safety of his room. But in case anyone was listening (and because he was a little paranoid that Roy Clem might roll in at any second), he whispered. "I touched everything with gloves. Michelle wrote that note in cursive, which she never does."

"But what about the tape?"

"I don't think anyone's in a mood to go hunting down Annette," Wehrung said dismissively. "And there were a lot of at Fielding then. There still are. Besides, I think the school is a little more concerned with what a dozen dudes wearing black were doing in the dead of night than what woke them all up in the first place."

"...all right," Gage said, still feeling a little nervous about the whole situation. He didn't like this new feeling of disconnection he now felt, but he tried to put it out of his mind. Gage looked in a mirror at his hair. He licked a palm and brushed some strands back. "If you say so. Just remember dude, you're not Ethan. If you get caught, you can't snap your fingers and be automatically saved."

"I know, I know. So, what's going on with you? How's Lawndale?"

"Could be worse." Gage put on his second pair of glasses, wire-framed ones. He decided he liked them more than the horn-rimmed pair. "It's easy as heck, and the teachers are...eccentric. But at least they aren't complete hard-asses. It's a lot more relaxed, which I'm definitely enjoying."

"Still using the cane?"

"Sent it back to the hospital. I'm once again fully mobile!."

"Wicked! So, whatcha doing right now?"

Gage paused. "Erm...I…"

"Erm, you're what?" sniggered Wehrung.

He hesitated. Gage wasn't sure how to talk about things like this. _I'm overthinking it, it's not that complicated._ "I'm actually getting ready for a date."

"You're kidding! With who?"

"You remember Trent's sister?"

"You're going out on a date with Jane Lane? She's pretty good-lookin'."

"Don't get any ideas."

He heard Wehrung laugh over the other line. "What are you two going to do?"

"We're going to an art and wine thing in Yardale."

"Don't get tipsy."

"That's funny," said Gage sarcastically. He looked at himself in his mirror again: he'd taken his grandfather's advice to be himself, instead of opting for a suit and tie, which he initially considered. So he was dressed head-to-toe in black: black jeans, black polo shirt, black overcoat, and a black choker around his neck. He'd also put both his earrings in; gold on the left, silver on the right. "All right, I'm going to be going, now. Tell Michelle and Karis I miss 'em, and for them to call me."

"All rightey. Bye."

"Bye." Gage hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs to Harris Studio's drive in, where his grandfather was waiting patiently in the car.

XXXX

"What. The. Hell. Happened?" Dmitri Vagin growled to a very nervous Breckenridge as he shuffled out of the Headmaster's office. "I want an explanation, Roan. I just had to come up with a whole bunch of lies with nuclear bombs tied to them to prevent us all from being suspended, and we're still on academic probation. So tell me now. Why did you send us into a trap?"

Roan felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. "You think I got you in the crapper on _purpose_?"

Dmitri crossed his arms at her, and gave her a stern look a father might give to a lying child. "I have no idea. All I know is that we just got screwed over, and it was either your fault or Karis Chapman's. If it's the former, and believe me, I hope it's not, but if it is, I swear to you that there will be a bulls-eye painted on the back of your head by tonight. And if it's Chapman, have you dealt with it?"

She tensed. "What do you mean, dealt with it?"

Dmitri looked at her without saying a word. He knew she would get it.

She huffed in a combination of frustration and anger. "I'm not going to hurt a middle-schooler, Dmitri. I'm not even sure if she set us up, she was crying! There's other-OW!" She grimaced as he gripped her tightly by the arm and led her to a secluded corner.

"Whatever happened," Dmitri hushed in a piercing tone, "Someone royally screwed us in the ass, and not in the fun way."

She gave him a disdainful look. "Wow, really?"

"Whatever. I want to know who pranked us, and I want to know soon, so we can get them back. And just to make sure you were not in on this, Roan, I want you to look up Fielding students with the initials A.G. who attended in 1993."

Under different, less serious circumstances, Roan would have been offended, and would also make that very, very clear. But this...she had been in the Mafia for years. To see Dmitri, a friend whom she had known for so long be suddenly so suspicious and angry with her...it felt like someone had put a knife in her heart. She wanted to regain his trust. Holding back hurtful tears, Roan said in a voice that she fought to keep steady, "You'll have your results by tonight."

"Good." Dmitri averted his gaze and stalked off.

XXXX

Jane opened the front door to her house and was faced with Daria. "Oh! Hey, mon ami. Whatcha doing here?"

Daria frowned. "You invited me over, remember? Last week? To pose for your new painting, 'Girl in Perpetual Boredom?'"

Making a grimace for being caught in her own forgetfulness, Jane said, "Oh. Yeah, about that…you mind re-scheduling? Something kinda came up."

"What came..." Daria squinted. "Hold on. Are you wearing lipstick?"

Jane pursed her lips guiltily. "Mm mn," she grunted, shaking her head. Daria's face contorted into a frown, and Jane sighed. "All right. I'm going on a date. Please, don't burn me at the stake."

Frowning, Daria said, "Whatever you do with guys is no concern of mine. But you could have called, told me you had other plans at the very least."

"I kinda forgot about the whole thing in the first place, anyhow," Jane shrugged. "Sorry. Hey, you want to come in so I can give you an apology soda?"

"Will it give reparations as it tickles my throat?" Daria intoned.

"No, but it'll taste...oh, here he is!"

Daria and Jane both watched as the vintage convertible scooched around the corner before parking in front of Casa Lane. Daria squinted at the driver, a bespectacled black man with receding white hair. "I had no idea you were into older men," Daria said.

"They have their merits," Jane replied. She smiled at the sight of Gage as he stepped out of his car and waved at her. He also waved at Daria for the sake of politeness.

She raised a hand at him briefly. "I suppose you could do worse," she shrugged.

"Go help yourself to that soda," Jane said. "You can pose tomorrow. I'll give you a call and tell you how this all went later. See you. Don't wake up Trent, he bites."

"Duly noted." Daria watched as her friend climbed into the back seat of the car as it drove off. Part of her was indifferent to the fact that Jane wanted to spend time with someone other than her. And the other part was slightly irritated at Gage for stealing her friend from her. _Get a grip, Morgendorffer, _she thought. _It's the weekend, Jane's entitled to do what she wants with her time He seemed nice enough. And if he does end up cutting into human-human socializing time, then you can test how far these boots can kick._

XXXX

At six-thirty-nine P.M., Roan had finished flipping through an older Face Book and had procured four students with the initials A.G. What dirt she had managed to get on each came from Roy Bayhar, a student who'd been in the sixth grade at Fielding in 1993, and what their hacker Paulo had been able to procure online. Roan had written some notes:

_Antonio Gonzalez: Prestigious graduate, somewhat chubby. Chess master. Math Club head and general whiz._

Armando Giovanni: English whiz, very frail looking. Now-professional golfer. Suspended for sabotaging the science project of Lucy Bedenzo, a Top.

Annette Grimes: Current staff member of White House. Thin. Genius. Known at Fielding as "Slimey Grimey."

Andrew Garaffalo: Lacrosse captain. Bulky, intimidating, chipped tooth. Removed from his position after a falling-out with another player. Later stabbed said player and was expelled from Fielding.

She tapped her pencil against her lip before adding to Garaffalo's bio. _Recording part of his pre-meditated attack on former lax bro?_ She decided it was possible. "But then who got the tape?" she asked herself. "And why _that_ tape?" It was a tape of lax bros talking. Lax bros beat up Gage Thystun. Karis Chapman is Gage Thystun's friend. But none of these four students seemed to be connected to either of them. _So where did this tape come from?_ And did it really matter? In the end, no matter how this tape was acquired, Karis Chapman was still a suspect. And by extension, Wehrung, Smith, even Thystun. So what had to be done here? Roan considered possible revenge scenarios, but she knew revenge would not erase what happened at the abandoned band room._So what do I do with this whole situation?_

Roan knew that the Mafia wanted revenge. That's what the entire organization had always been about: revenge against what they saw as intolerance and intolerant people. But Roan had noticed that they themselves had overstepped boundaries several times, which was why she had long-since stopped directly involving herself in their "pranks." She had considered leaving the Mafia before, but they were her friends. And she wouldn't turn her back on them for anything. _I don't know what to do._ Frustrated, she threw her notebook aside and slumped against her wall, vainly hoping she would fall asleep there.

XXXX

"Gotta say, I was hoping for a bit more wine," Jane joked as she and Gage walked down the avenue. Crowded into the street, flanked by book-stores, foreign restaurants and a couple of office buildings were various tents containing works of art spanning many mediums, from landscape paintings to tie-dye shirts. Nearby were some tents serving up barbecue, mediterranean, and Mexican food. A few people walked around in costumes so exotic and odd, Gage said at one point that he felt like he was attending a Mardis Gras parade. The whole festival was actually rather crowded.

"Except nobody's drunk," continued Jane. "And you know why?"

"No wine?"

"No wine. But I guess a soda will do."

"_That_ I believe I can manage." Gage bought them both cans of 'Super-Soda.' They drank their respective cans, deciding that it was merely, as the name suggested, a rip-off of Ultra-Cola and moved on down the avenue, glancing at the various works, occasionally providing comments as well as barbs.

"So," Jane said later on, "How is Lawndale comparing to Fielding, so far?"

He repeated to her what he'd said to Wehrung. Gage also considered saying that the girls were cuter at Lawndale, but decided that a line like that just wasn't him. And because he was too nervous to say it. "I'm just happy for this break, even I'm still technically enrolled at Fielding."

"Really?" she said, surprised and intrigued. "How does that work?"

"Well...it's kinda complicated. The basic jist is that I take classes at Lawndale, then I have to write a reflective essay every month about my experiences moving from a prestigious private school to a-"

"Lowly, filthy public school?" Jane guessed, smirking at him.

Gage was about to counter that, but instead he shrugged indifferently and yipped a "Exactly," which made Jane chuckle. He gave a relaxed breath; he knew if that offended her, then this date would be kaput. "I have to start doing more extracurriculars, though, or else I'll die of boredom."

"You'd be surprised. Daria does next to nothing at school, yet she endures."

"I just need something to do. Is there any kind of art club?"

"No, but there's…" Jane hesitated. "Never mind."

"What?" Gage asked, curious. "Tell me, please."

She sighed. "Well, since you're so polite...I'll tell you if ya make a tie-dye shirt with me." She nodded her head at a tie-dye booth, advertising that patrons could dye their own shirts any colors they wished.

"Sure," he smiled. "You have a deal."

Half an hour later, Gage had a tie-dye shirt plastered with various shades of black and grey, while Jane had a shirt that she would hereafter describe as her 'psychedelic shirt.' "All right," Gage said. "Fess up, missy."

"Yes sir," she said in an overly-masculine voice. "Well, there's a Fashion Club at Lawndale."

Gage's face lit up. "Really?!"

"Don't get too optimistic. It's a bunch of girls trying to look pretty and popular. And unfortunately, it seems to work."

Gage shrugged heedlessly. "So? Give me a few weeks; I'll change the system."

She gave him an appreciative look. "You're a pretty confident one."

"Believe me, it's taken practice. But, thanks," he smiled.

XXXX

"So, we have nothing on that tape," Dmitri groaned. Sitting in his towering vintage 19th-century chair, he looked like a king. A tired king. "Then you know Roan, that the only thing left to do is interrogate Karis Chapman."

"I'm still not sure about her, Dmitri," Roan insisted. She stood several feet away, wringing her hands. "She's-"

Dmitri cut her off loudly. "I don't care if you don't-"

"LET ME FINISH!" Roan roared, causing Dmitri to jump in his seat. She'd never been that loud with him before, which surprised her too, but she tried not to show it. "Karis was weeping when I went to her, she was genuinely distraught. I think she honestly thought she was leading me to her bullies-"

"Roan-"

"Be quiet! I'm not going to hurt or scare an innocent kid. Sure, I'll go ask her some questions, but that's it, Dmitri."

"Roan," he said in a voice so grave it scared her. "Haven't you figured it out yet?"

"Figured out what?" she asked, confused.

Dmitri's head fell into his hands, and he whispered, "Oh god." He looked up at her, concealing his anger at her for not realizing what he had, and the fear for what it all meant. "This girl tells you where Gage's attackers apparently went. And that same god damn night, a whole bunch of students in black are apprehended. For the sake of our privacy, the administration has made sure that none of our identities were revealed to the student body, and like I told you, I spun the world's biggest bullsh*t web to hide from them that we're the Mafia.

But Roan, if this girl figures out what we were doing there, she'll know that you're Mafia. She'll have power over you, and by extension, us. She just knows too much."

Her face paling and her heart pounding, Roan felt panic setting in. _Oh my god. Oh my god. How did I not think of that, I'm such an idiot! And he's right! _"What do I do?" she asked out loud to nobody in particular.

"We have to stop her from talking," Dmitri. "And that means we have to either get her out of Fielding, or..." He swallowed. "No, that's our only option here. We'll stage something, get her expelled."

It was not something she should have been comfortable with, but Roan didn't object. She knew that having a threat like that girl out there would be dire for the Mafia. And what if she had been lying to her? That made her angry, but there was still the chance she hadn't been. _I can't take that chance._

"Dmitri," she said, "I'm going to talk to her. Hear me out. I want to talk to her, see if she's oblivious to it all. And if I do think she's a threat, and believe me, I'll tell you, I'll have no problem with you getting rid of her. But please, just let me do this."

He had averted his gaze from her for the duration of her plea, trying to distance himself from the pity she held for Chapman. But Dmitri was not immune to reason. "All right, fine," he capitulated. "And believe me, I hope to god this girl knows nothing. But I wouldn't count on it."

XXXX

"You know, that wasn't that bad, in terms of the art," Gage said as he and Jane waited to be picked up by his grandfather. They sat outside a bookshop at a wobbly glass table, eating ice cream. "Usually the stuff is really sloppy. And speaking of..." he eyed the rapidly-melting ice cream.

"The art's sloppy because the artists want to churn a profit, so they try to produce something as fast as possible," Jane explained. "But I think, I'm not sure, this festival only comes around once every two months. So they have more time to be lazy, and more time to work."

"That'd make sense," Gage said. He looked up at Jane, and seeing that she was quite invested in her ice cream, he darted a hand inside his overcoat to retrieve a pill, which he quickly downed.

Jane noticed. "What was that?" she asked.

"Vitamin," Gage lied. He didn't want to tell her about his schizophrenia. Not yet, at least. "So," he said with a small smile. "Um….this was fun."

"I agree," said Jane. "Although it's too bad they didn't have an empty canvas you could shoot paintballs at. They had that the last time I was here."

"That does sound like fun," Gage agreed. "But anyways...want to do this again?"

Jane tapped the side of her ice cream cup with her spoon. "Ice cream, or a date?"

"Both, if possible."

Jane smiled at him and nodded. "Sure. I'd be happy to. Any ideas?"

"Um…" Gage gave it some thought. "We can listen to your brother at the Zon, or something." They exchanged blank stares before bursting out laughing. "Okay," Gage giggled, "Bad idea. Wanna work on something?"

"Homework or art?"

"Homework, of course," Gage said sarcastically.

"Right. How about I teach you to do a proper landscape? Because I've seen your work, Johnny Cash. And it needs a good boot up the ass."

"As long as it's not a boot up _my_ ass, I'm fine with it," Gage joked.

The two jumped when a horn blared. They looked and saw Michael Harris down the street, flashing his headlights. "I believe that's our cue to get _our_ asses in gear," Jane said.

XXXX

Roan knocked on Karis's door. When the red-headed girl answered it, her face immediately paled upon seeing Roan. _Well, that's telling,_ thought the junior. Still, she smiled. "Hi, Karis. Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Oh, um…" Roan couldn't see Karis's eyes, but the girl was so nervous that they were darting around much faster than usual. "Sure," she said with trepidation. Karis led the older girl into her room, letting her have the chair.

Roan searched Karis's face for any sign of guilt. _She seems nervous, but it'd be easier to tell without those damned sunglasses._ Reading this girl was going to be difficult. Roan decided just to get down to the point. "You told me about that room. You told me that lax bros would be there."

Karis just stared nervously at Roan for a while, until she timidly squeaked, "Those guys who got arrested weren't lax bros?"

"Nope, they weren't."

"...so who were they?"

"I don't know," lied Roan. "I was hoping you could tell me."

"I told you all I know," pleaded Karis.

Roan leaned forward and gave her a hard stare. "I don't think you did."

"Yes I did!" Karis said in a tone that was desperate, frustrated, and angry. "I told you what I knew. Lax bros met there. And then people got arrested. You did say you'd make them pay." She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. "But that was not how I imagined you'd do it."

"I didn't have anything to do with that."

"Yes you did," Karis insisted, "You vous affreux menteur."

"I don't speak French," Roan said with a false smile.

Feeling a sudden shot of confidence from knowing this girl wasn't being honest with her, and was thus probably desperate, Karis leaned forward and spoke in a soft, condescending tone. "I called you horrible. And a liar."

Roan suddenly lost her patience, and decided that she could only get what she needed through intimidation. She brandished her Swiss Army Knife and brought its blade down hard into Karis's desk. The albino girl let out a brief scream, all boldness gone in the sight of the sharp steel.

"Tell me now," Roan said in a deadly voice. "Why did you trick me? Who set that trap? Who-"

The door burst open. Before Roan could turn around, she felt something hard hit her in the back and she tumbled to the floor head-first. Her vision blurred, she managed to move herself onto the back and looked up at her attacker, who was pointing a long, white rod at her.

"Don't you goddamn dare come back here," Michelle Smith hissed. She slammed the tip of her cane threateningly into the floor. "Don't you dare come near Karis. Don't you dare come near me, either. If you do, I'll know, believe me, and I swear to God that nothing on this planet will be able to save you from us. Leave. NOW." When she did not hear the sound of running feet, Michelle swung the aluminum cane into the metal bedpost above Roan, making a loud clang that shocked the junior back to her senses. Roan took her advice and fled.

Karis, weeping from shock, rushed to Michelle and gave her a hug, catching her by surprise. "It's all right," Michelle said, "It's all right." But the words rang hollow, because she knew that in the end, this was all because of her.

-Thanks to Ognawk for beta-reading!


	18. Seeing Through the Lens

Dmitri heard a series of frantic knocks at his door. He abandoned the essay he'd been penning and opened the door, finding himself faced with a wide-eyed Roan Breckenridge.

"What is it?" he asked.

XXXX

In an Underhill dormitory, Wehrung jumped at the sound of something metallic rapping at his own door. He went to answer, already knowing who it was.

XXXX

"I need to talk to you now," Roan said. She was wide-eyed, but wincing at an unseen pain. "This whole thing might be a little more complicated than we thought."

XXXX

"Something happened with Karis and that girl who came to interview you," Michelle Smith explained. She kept her voice to a hush; Wehrung informed her that Roy was in, sleeping.

"What happened? Is Karis okay?" whispered Wehrung with nervous excitement in his voice.

"Yeah, she's fine, but I think we might have made some new enemies," Michelle explained. "Bottom line is this: I need to see."

XXXX

"Smith attacked you?" Dmitri said with an expression that was more surprised than horrified or appalled. He stood in the center of his room, watching the tired Roan in his chair. He'd given her a bottle of water, which she ignored.

"She told me to never come near her or Karis again, or that nothing could save me from 'us,'" explained Roan. She was still shaking her head, fighting off the dizziness that had come from hitting her head against Chapman's floor. "So, who's us?"

"Her and Chapman would be my first guess," said Dmitri, rubbing his chin contemplatively, "But now that we're pretty sure they're who set that trap up for us...we'll, I'm not particularly a blind girl could have put that all together. Karis could've, we just don't know."

"Wehrung?" Roan postulated. "I hear he's quite the tech guy. I'd bet it was him, or that he was involved, at the very least."

XXXX

"Why now?" Wehrung asked Michelle. The two ASPS sat in a stairwell so that they could talk without having to worry about waking other students up. "You didn't ask me to re-build your goggles after you threw them against a wall. And you still haven't explained to me why you-"

"And I don't plan on it," Michelle said quickly. She had no intention of ever talking about what she'd seen that night to anyone. "But if the Mafia come back to pester us, and something tells me that they will, I don't want them to sneak up on me. And I can only make so many lucky guesses where the sensitive portions of another person's anatomy are; I need to be able to see who I'm fighting, Wehrung."

He bit his lip and fiddled with his thumbs nervously. "This isn't going to be some nasty war, will it? ASPS versus Mafia? Because we're kinda short on people. And money. Speaking of that, I will try to make you another headset for to you to use. But you'll need to bring me your old headset, so I can see what I can salvage."

She gave him a hug, making him go, "Urp!"

"Thanks," she said solemnly. They separated. "And I hope this doesn't become some kind of gang war, either. I just want to be prepared if it does come to that. And it'd be nice to see again."

"I'll bet. Just bring me the goggles, and I'll get started right away."

XXXX

"We need to find out if they're part of, like, some anti-Mafia group or something like that," Roan said, to a nod from Dmitri. "We need….we need a spy."

XXXX

Wehrung closed his door silently behind me as he went back into his dorm.

"Everything all right?" Roy mumbled.

The sound of his voice made Wehrung flinch. _Crap! So much for stealth._ "It's nothing, Roy," he said hurriedly, but softly. "Just had to go talk to a friend."

"Okey dokey," Roy squeaked as he fell back to his sleep, relieving Wehrung.

XXXX

The next day, half an hour after classes had ended, Michelle checked up on Wehrung. He was hunched over her goggles at his desk, a pair of magnifying goggles sitting on his nose, with the lenses punched out on the left side. He looked up at her. "Oh, hey," he said. "Guess I forgot to lock my door."

"Yeah. How's it going? Can you fix it?"

He scrunched up his nose, trying to figure how to put it best. He decided on, "No chance."

"You sure?"

"Uh, yeah. You're pretty strong, and judging on what you did to this thing, it was a hell of a throw. Both the lenses are completely destroyed, and one of the screens, too. So, I can't fix it. But…"

"But?"

He turned away from the smashed goggles to face her. "Hear me out. I can salvage what I can from this and make you something new by as soon as tonight. But the thing is, you'll have vision in only one eye."

Michelle perked up considerably. "By tonight! Awesome!"

"I _hope_ by tonight. And…" he hesitated. He considered telling her that he was afraid that only using one eye might give her headaches, but acknowledged that was more of a suspicion than a genuine concern. Also, he didn't want to ruin her newfound excitement. "...I've given it a name, too."

"What?"

He smirked. "Wehrung Vision. Made by me for one eye only."

They laughed over that for a minute before Michelle announced that she wanted to check on Karis. She thanked Wehrung and left, narrowly avoiding sticking her cane into the spokes of Roy Clem's wheels as they passed in the hall.

XXXX

A few hours later, after he'd salvaged one of the screens from the goggles, Wehrung told Roy, who was studying for a science test, that he was going to make a phone call and get dinner, and would be back in an hour. "All rightey!" smiled Roy, sitting in his wheelchair with a comforter draped over his legs.

Twenty minutes or so later, Roy could hear a girl calling, "Alex! Alex!" down the hall. They got closer and closer until a girl with platinum-blonde hair in a pixie cut stuck her head in the open doorway. "Oh, hey. Have you seen him?"

"Oh, he went to dinner," Roy explained helpfully. "He should be back in half an hour."

"Oh, good," breathed Roan. She shut the door behind her and turned back to the paraplegic boy, who suddenly looked concerned. "You're Roy, right? His roommate?"

"...yes," he said cautiously.

"It's okay," she smiled. "My name's Lindsay. I'm a classmate of Wehrung's, and a friend of his sister."

"Zara?"

"Yeah." Roan's face darkened. She walked over to Roy and knelt so that she was eye-to-eye level with him. "Roy, I need to talk to you about something. But you can't tell Wehrung, all right?"

"...okay." Roy was equal parts suspicious and confused.

"I'm here because Zara was afraid to come here herself," Roan lied. "She doesn't walk to talk to Wehrung about his drug problem, and-"

"Drug problem?" Roy exclaimed loudly, eyes wide. "What drug problem?"

"Shhh! Keep your voice down!" she hissed.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Roan continued. "It's not cocaine or anything. Wehrung's been addicted to Vicadin for a long time now. It all started after what happened to his eye. He managed to get off it for a while, but Zara saw him with an orange bottle recently, she's afraid he's back off the wagon."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Roy, I have a job for you."

"...what?" he asked with hesitation.

She handed him a crumpled-up slip of paper, which he unfolded. On it was a phone number and e-mail address. "Those are both mine," she explained. "They're if you ever see Wehrung acting suspiciously. Going to odd places, talking to people of particular interest. We want to be absolutely sure he's getting drugs again, because he's really good at hiding them...from what I've heard," she said. "Don't talk to Zara about this, she doesn't want him to get suspicious. Can you do that for me, Roy?"

He looked unsure. As Roy pondered over what to do, Roan reminded herself, _He's our only chance of infiltration here. Neither Michelle or Karis have roommates._ She tried to look as calm as possible, but also a little pleading.

Then, Roy sighed. "All right, I'll do it," he said, even though he looked a little fearful.

Roan breathed a sigh of relief. _Crap! Don't give it away! _She gave him a hug. "Thank you, Roy. We want to make sure he's getting better."

"Me too," he agreed quickly. When Roan smiled at him, he smiled back.

XXXX

"Hey mom," Wehrung said into his phone.

"Hey sweetie!" he heard his mother say, which only made him feel far worse than he thought possible. "I'm so glad you called! What's up?"

"Mom, I need some money," he said.

"Oh. What for?"

"There's this trip to Alabama I want to go on; it's so we can study the trail of tears."

"How much do you need."

If there were another Wehrung beside him, he would have punched his own teeth out. "About two hundred bucks."

"Oh. Okay. I think I can manage that. Is that all?"

"No." He fought the urge to hang up. "How's school?"

And for another twenty minutes, he forced himself to talk to his mother after swindling her out of two hundred dollars. Afterwards, he went and ate dinner in the dining commons before heading back to his room. He never took his gaze off the ground.

When he got back to his room, he said to Roy, "I'm going to bed."

"Okay. But hey, uh, Wehrung, one thing."

Catching the worry in Roy's voice, he picked up his head and looked at his roommate. "What?"

"Um...that girl you told me to tell you about if she ever came back? Roan?"

Wehrung suddenly tensed. "Yeah?"

"What does she look like?"

XXXX

The next morning on Saturday, Michelle showed up at Wehrung's door. He eagerly presented her with the finished product: a compact screen from a digital camera that had been modified (mostly with various types of wiring and glue) to accommodate a small, but powerful camera lens.

"The battery lasts a full hour, you'll have to keep it in your pocket or backpack," he explained. "And you'll want to pull those straps tight," he said as Michelle began to put it on. "Here's hoping that it works okay for you," he said nervously.

"Me too. And if it doesn't, I'll kick your ass," she joked. Michelle groped at the screen. "How do I turn it on?"

"There's a switch on the battery."

"Thanks." She reached into her pocket and flipped it. Suddenly, she was blessed with vision in one eye. Michelle gasped with happiness; while she couldn't see as much, it was all so much_clearer_ than the last headset. "Wehrung, you've done it again! Heh, and this time, without Dressler money!"

He gave a false laugh.

Michelle looked at herself in his mirror. With the bulky camera tied around her head, the right side of her face had an almost mechanical, artificial look to it. Michelle was unperturbed by this. "Hey!" she exclaimed. "I look like a cyborg. Cool!" She turned around, and gave Wehrung another, tight hug.

"Urp!"

"Hee hee, sorry." When she heard him give a heavy sigh, she stepped away. He looked visibly depressed: he was averting his eye, and looked generally tense. "Hey," said Michelle in a concerned tone. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, although she did not believe him. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "I forgot to tell you something."

After he'd recounted Roy's talk with Roan to her, Michelle's face contorted into an angry snarl. "Wait here." She stalked out of his room, but he followed.

"Michelle! Hold on! Where are you going?"

Without turning back and without bothering to raise her voice, she said, "I'm going to talk to Roan Breckenridge." Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her cane.

-Title taken from a video made by Percussive M. and her friends. \


	19. Actions and Consequences

"It's not fair," whined Verity Smith, a sixth-grade girl, to the short-haired, junior brunet accompanying her down the Whiteley hallway. "All those snotty Tops girls get guys, and I don't. I don't get it, I'm so nice! Is there something wrong with me?"

"There's something wrong with them," affirmed Julia Garter. "I don't think you'd want a boyfriend who'd be into those kinds of girls. They're man-whores. Or they have real low standards in the likability department. Either way, just wait." She smiled at the younger girl. "You'll get someone eventually." She enjoyed talking honestly with the other girls in the dorm, especially the younger ones; ever since the RA had moved away, she became their de-facto mentor, someone they could look up to. She liked that feeling.

"But I don't want to wait," Verity sighed. "I want to have fun! I don't get enough of it here."

"You don't need a guy to have fun," Julia said. "If that were the case, a good portion of women all over the planet would be looking out their windows, sighing dramatically and saying-"

"HELP!"

The shriek had come suddenly and out of nowhere. No, not nowhere; behind them. Julia and Verity twirled around to see Michelle Smith running towards them, waving her arms, eyes wide. Or rather, eye; there was..._something_ wrapped around her head. It looked like a camera... "HELP!" she shrieked again. "CALL 911!"

"Michelle, what's wrong?" Julia exclaimed, suddenly frightened. Why did she need to call 911? Was there someone with a gun? A fire? "Why do we-"

"DO IT NOW!" Michelle screamed again. And then she turned on her heel and ran back the way she came.

Julia glanced at Verity. "Call 911, get the campus police in here," she ordered. Julia had to say it again, louder for Verity to come out of her own wide-eyed stupor. After the girl ran off, Julia immediately took off after Michelle, even though she wanted to run in the opposite direction.

She turned the corner into the next hallway and screamed at what she saw. Michelle was keeping her hands firmly pressed on the blood-stained ribcage of Roan Breckenridge, who was writhing and crying in pain on the hallway floor. Julia almost screamed again when she saw the discarded Swiss-Army Knife, its blade scarlet-red, lying next to Roan. "What happened?!" Julia screeched.

"I...I..." Michelle stammered. The ASP fought back the irresistible urge to flee as she tried to keep the dying junior alive. Roan's eyes were shut tightly in her agony, yet tears managed to squeeze through. They fell down her cheeks in rivulets and onto the floor, pooling as rapidly as her own blood.

XXXX

**Murder on Campus!  
Junior Roan Breckenridge stabbed in apparent fight wi**

"What the hell are you doing?" barked Carlton Daniels.

Sitting at her usual spot in the journalism classroom, Zoey flinched at the crack of his voice and looked up from her computer in fright, her hands flying away from the keyboard. "N-nothing," she squeaked.

He glanced at her computer and saw the title of her article. "What the hell is that?" he exclaimed angrily.

Zoey began to tremble. "W-well, we don't know if...if Roan is going to survive-"

"So, what, can you tell the future or something? We report on facts, Zoey!" he said irritably. "We've already gotten in trouble once, over the article on Dressler, so we don't need this either, do we?" He gave a patronizing, 'Mm?' sound. "Don't let me find you doing this again." A thought came to Daniels, and he smiled. "In fact, why don't you go to the hospital right now? She how she's doing, report on it."

Her face paling considerably, Zoey squeaked in a smaller voice, "But I hate hospitals…"

"Too damn bad. Do it or you're off the paper." He pointed a thumb at the door. "Get going."

Faster than should have been possible, Zoey gathered up her belongings and dashed out the door.

XXXX

The police officer, a balding, middle-aged, portly man, waved his hand dismissively at the three teenagers standing in front of him. "You can't see her," he mumbled, not taking his eyes off a form he was signing.

"You can at least tell us when we can, vous tromper incompétent!" Karis exclaimed frustratedly.

The officer looked up at her and frowned. "I do not speak French young lady, but I can at least tell that you just called me incompetent. Please leave before I have to escort you off the premises."

"Not until you let me-"

"Karis," Gage cut in. He looked at her and raised his hands, indicating for her to calm down. "Deep breath, all right? You and Wehrung go take a break, and I'll sort everything out."

"But-"

"I'd listen to him, young lady," said the police officer monotonously.

Karis sneered at him momentarily, before she twisted around and stalked out of the building, Wehrung warily following her. He bumped into the frame of the automatic doors as he left.

Gage turned back to the police officer. "When do I get to see her?"

"Kid-"

"I can stay all day, man."

The officer sighed and checked his watch. "About two minutes, the detective should be done with her by then."

"Is she officially under arrest?" he probed.

"No, just being questioned," yawned the officer. "She told us that she didn't stab this girl, and we believe her." The officer didn't mention that nobody in the department thought a blind girl as capable of such a thing. "But we also know she pulled the knife out, which was a stupid move. One would think she was trying to kill this girl, but at least several witnesses, the paramedics included, said that this girl was doing everything she could to save the victim's life. So your friend is pretty luck she ain't going to prison."

"Yeah," said Gage absent-mindedly. He thought of the panic Michelle must have been going through as he walked away from the desk and sank in a stiff folding chair sitting in the corner of the room. Over the next two minutes, Gage thought about what he was going to say to Michelle. He knew that regarding the circumstances, he was going to have to be careful with his words.

Eventually she came out, escorted by a female officer. Michelle looked despondent and tired; her head was bowed and her shoulders sagged. The right side of her face was still red from where the modified camera had been strapped. She wore jeans and a bulky grey coat.

"You're free to go now, Ms. Smith," said the officer escorting Michelle. She nodded weakly.

"Michelle, I'm here," Gage said.

Michelle's head shot up, as though she intended to look at him in the face, but instead she bowed her head again and mumbled, "Hey." She swept her cane back and forth as she shuffled forward out the door. Gage followed her.

Outside, she was greeted enthusiastically by both Karis and Wehrung, but their faces fell when they saw how despondent Michelle looked. They exchanged concerned glances with themselves and Gage. "Hey, Michelle, you okay?" Karis asked gently.

"Yeah," mumbled Michelle.

"No you're not," Wehrung said matter-of-factly. "You're obviously upset."

Gage gave him a dirty look. "Dude. Shut up." He put his hand on Michelle's shoulder. "Seriously, you all right?"

"I just need some time to myself," Michelle said. She walked off in a random direction, not caring where she was heading. She just wanted to get as far away from everything and everyone as possible.

Her friends watched her go. "Is she going to be all right?" Karis asked nervously, wringing her hands. She considered Michelle to be her best friend, and it hurt to see her so upset.

"I hope so," Gage sighed. He glanced at Michelle again. While he wanted to talk to her, he didn't want to put her in any more pain. _But I need to talk to her about all of this,_ he decided. It was not something he could just let go. "I'm going to follow her," he announced.

"I'll come with," Wehrung volunteered.

"Ah, no," said Gage. "You're not exactly….good at making people feel better, as we just saw."

"Mm mh," agreed Karis. "Can I come?"

"I'd like you to, Karis, but there's something I really need to talk to her about by myself.

"...oh." She gave Gage a slightly pleading look. "But can you tell her that we hope she feels better? And that we're here for her?"

"Yeah," said Wehrung.

"'Course I will," said Gage. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and began to trail Michelle.

XXXX

A barefoot Roan Breckenridge opened her door, only to find Michelle Smith standing in front of it. She quickly jumped back and brandished her father's Swiss Army Knife. "What do you want?" she exclaimed, hoping that she did not sound as afraid as she actually was. The sight of that camera on Michelle's face unnerved her even more. "What the hell do you want? Tell me _now._"

Michelle gripped the handle of her cane, but made no motion to raise it at Roan. "You tried to get Roy Clem to spy on Wehrung. Beside that being just dubious, trying to get a middle-schooler to spy on you, what riles me up personally is that you tried to keep tabs on my friend."

"So he was in on this whole thing too, huh?" said Roan. She would have smiled snidely under different circumstances.

Michelle chose her words carefully. "I didn't say that. I just don't want you, or your people poking around my friends."

"And I don't want _your_ people putting my friends in the searchlights," Roan countered. "You people, whoever you are, started this. I don't know what kind of group you are, but I think you're bad news. And we're going to beat you at this little game you've started."

"No, you're not," said Michelle firmly. Before Roan could counter again, she said quickly, "Because there's going to be no beating." Michelle pressed a button on the hilt of her cane and flipped it upwards. The whole length of the long aluminum rod sank into the hilt. She put it in her sleeve and held up her hands. Roan's hard expression softened, and she lowered her knife somewhat.

"I didn't come to fight you, Roan," Michelle said. "I just want to talk."

XXXX

She heard the faint sound of shuffling feet behind her. "Quit following me, Gage," Michelle said tiredly. "I told you, I just want to be alone."

"I want to make sure you're all right," he said as he walked beside her. "I'm worried about you. So are Karis and Wehrung."

She sensed something about the tone of his voice. Something that made her feel anxious all over again. "But that's not the only reason, am I right?" she said.

There was a prolonged pause. "No," Gage admitted.

"I know what you're going to say," Michelle said. "So let me say it instead. I was stupid. I should have let them prank the laxholes. This is all my fault."

"I didn't say that. I just want to know why you didn't talk to me about any of this," Gage said. "I mean, I am a pretty important piece in this whole checkers game of crap."

Michelle gave a snort. "Interesting metaphor, there."

He felt a small, guilty stab of disappointment that she was not taking this as seriously as he hoped. "Michelle…"

She stopped in her tracks, and Gage followed suit. She stuck a hand up into her coat and pulled out her new 'eye.' She strapped it over her face, flipped a switch on the camera, and looked him. She gasped. "Oh my god! You look awful. I _should_ have let them get the laxholes." Michelle angry kicked the ground. "God damn it!"

XXXX

"I just want to talk."

Roan remained in a fighting stance, wary. "Prove it. Give me the cane."

Their gazes were locked in a steely exchange for a few moments. After a few moments, Michelle gave a slight nod. "All right." She lowered her sleeve, letting the heavy aluminum slide out of her wrist into her hand. She slowly handed it to Roan, who quickly snatched it away, tucking it inside her own sleeve. Only then did she put the knife away into the inner pocket of her jacket, and assumed a more relaxed stance.

"Okay," said Roan. "What do you want to talk about?"

Michelle cocked her head to the side and looked past Roan. "May I come in?"

"That long of a talk?"

"Maybe. Really, I just want to sit down."

"...okay." Roan cautiously let Michelle come into her room. The ASP quickly took in the setting: like her, Roan lived in a single. The walls were plastered with contemporary band posters, maps, and even some hand-written mathematical formulas that extended across whole walls; several pieces of paper had been taped together to allow for it. Michelle sank into a black leather office chair, while Roan leaned against a wall opposite. "You want to start?" she asked.

Michelle gave a nod. "Sure. Well, ah...well, let me just get something out of the way right not. I know you're in the Mafia. And it was my organization that pranked yours."

"_That_ I guessed," Roan said stonily. "Then you knew what we were doing? What we intended?"

Michelle nodded.

Roan suddenly became livid. She pushed herself off the wall and stood to her full height. "And you decided, 'hey, I'm going to screw over the people who wanted to screw over the people who screwed over my friend?'"

"Roan, look," said Michelle, holding up a staying hand and speaking in as calm and firm a voice as she could muster. "I admit, what we did was rash...and I'm going to take responsibility for that." _I should, the whole thing was my idea._ "The reason we did it is because, as I'm sure you guys saw on that note, is that we fight our own battles. We didn't need your help, and we won't anytime soon."

"Who's 'we?'" asked Roan with an arched eyebrow. "You, Wehrung, Karis, maybe Gage. I want to know who's 'you?' And I think you owe me an explanation anyway, Smith."

"No, I don't," said Michelle quietly.

Roan's hands balled into fists. "Yes you do. It's the least you can do after beating me with this." She flung Michelle's cane onto the floor. "Explanation, now."

XXXX

After she kicked at the ground, Gage said soothingly, "Calm down, Michelle. There's no need to be upset-"

"But you're upset with me, aren't you?" she interjected. When Gage said nothing, she smiled at him ruefully. "Yeah. I thought so." She turned away from him and walked away again. Gage scurried up to her.

"Just tell me why, Michelle?"

"I don't know," she barked suddenly. "I just don't know, all right? You happy?" she said in a raised voice. Then she sank down onto the sidewalk, cradling her head in her hands. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Gage sat down next to her and patted her on the back. "You're the one who should be getting mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, Michelle. I just wanted some answers, but you don't have to talk about it just yet. Want to just sit here for a bit?"

She stared ahead of her. Across the street, children played in a public park, while their mothers chatted happily with each other. "Yeah," she said. "I'd like that."

XXXX

Michelle bit her lip as Roan ordered her to explain. Careful…. "Well, you didn't think you guys were the only secret society on campus, did you?" said Michelle coyly.

"And I assume that's all you're going to tell me?" Roan asked.

"Pretty much," Michelle said. "Unless you're going to try and use that knife of yours to get me to talk."

Roan's face fell, and Michelle felt a stab of triumph. "I lost my cool with Karis," Roan admitted. "Like, seriously lost it. But it won't happen again."

"Are you implying that you're going to talk to Karis, ever again?" Michelle said protectively. "Because I'm not going to-"

"No, I'm not," Roan cut in. "What I'm getting out of this is that we've both made mistakes that reflect on the people we work for."

_You're half right_, thought Michelle.

"And we need to back off," Roan continued. "No squabbles. And if I were you, Smith, I'd take that deal. Because your people don't deserve it after what 'you' did, not by a long shot. All right?"

"All right," Michelle said without hesitation. She just wanted this to be over; a way out was all she wanted. "But also-"

"What?"

"I'm not sure it'll help at this point, but tell the Mafia that we're sorry."

"Yeah, well, just hope that they believe you on that," shrugged Roan. "I'll see you out." She walked up to her door and turned the knob. As Roan stepped out to push the door open, she stubbed her toe on the hilt of Michelle's cane and tripped. "CRAP!" she cried out in pain as she tumbled to the hallway floor.

"Ouch," winced Michelle. "You okay? Roan? Roan?!" She cried out as she realized that Roan had suddenly began shaking. Michelle rushed over to her and turned her over. A red blotch was beginning to form on the right side of Roan's chest. Roan gasped out in pain.

"Get...help…" she said through gritted teeth.

"Uh….uh…" Michelle had no idea what to do. Something like this had never happened to her before. Her first instinct was to solve the problem, and to her, the first thing to do was remove the knife. She reached into Roan's jacket.

Roan's eyes widened. "No-" she screamed as Michelle pulled the pocket knife out of her chest. When the blood began to well faster, Michelle's face paled. _Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god….what do I do?! WHAT DO I DO?!_ Realizing that she was out of her element, Michelle ran off to get help.

XXXX

For a while, Gage and Michelle sat together as the day ended, saying nothing and enjoying the calm mood. As the sun started to go down, Michelle spoke. "Hey."

"Yeah?" said Gage.

"You never asked me if I did it."

"Did what?"

"You know….Roan."

He shook her shoulder, indicating for her to look at him. She did so, and found a certain honesty in his eyes. "Michelle," he said. "I know you didn't do it. I know."

She smiled again, and rubbed at her exposed eye. "Thank you." She looked up at the setting sun that had turned all the clouds pink. "It's pretty."

"Yeah. It is." After another pause, he asked, "You want to head back to Fielding now?"

Michelle's stare hardened. "Not yet," she said. She stood, pushing herself up with her cane. "I need to visit her."

XXXX

"I feel bad, abandoning them," Karis said as she and Wehrung walked back on to the Fielding campus, just as the sun started to set in the distance.

"It's more like the other way around," Wehrung shrugged. "Don't worry about it; they'll be fine. Michelle's bad-ass and Gage is pretty resourceful when he wants to be. They'll-"

"Hey!"

The cry had come from Zoey Liebscher, who was jogging up to them at a brisk face. She seemed distracted, yet nervous. "I need your guys' help," she huffed as she ran up to them.

"With what?" Karis asked.

Zoey's face expressed a combination of fear and anxiety. "Uh….I can't remember."

"You sure?" Wehrung said. She nodded. He gave a shrug and said, "Well, if you remember within the next twenty seconds, I'm sure we can-"

He noticed that Zoey's face had changed expression again. Now it was...apologetic.

Wehrung suddenly became aware of the sound of rapid footfalls behind him. He turned around.

XXXX

"Who are you here to visit?" asked a young nurse with a name tag that said 'Marlene' in bright pink capital letters above "Lawndale General Nurse."

"Roan Breckenridge," Michelle answered.

"All right," said Marlene. "Let me look her up…" she entered a few commands into her computer before looking up and smiling. "She's in room 4021, in wing D. Fourth floor."

"Thanks," said an unsmiling Michelle. She motioned for Gage to follow her. They slipped past wailing children and coughing elders until they reached the elevator. Gage hit the button marked four, and they were carried up alone.

"I hate hospitals," she said.

"All of us do," Gage mumbled as the doors opened. They exited and headed down the hallway until they found 'D' wing. 'D' actually stood for the floor's true, longer name. As they turned down the hall, Gage spotted the portrait of the man for whom the floor had been named after: a smiling, tall man with a square face, a small nose, receding silver hair, and piercing yellow eyes. Gage averted his gaze and looked back ahead.

Eventually, they found the room. Michelle's hand hovered nervously over the knob. She looked at Gage, seeking reassurance. He did not smile, but gave a firm nod. Her visible eye wide with anxiety, Michelle nodded back and turned the knob in one quick twist. She pushed the door open, and the ASPS walked in.

Michelle gave a short gasp, and Gage went, "Oh, Christ."

Roan was elevated on her bed, her bare chest covered in swaths of bandages. Several tubes led into where she had been stabbed (Michelle had been told that the knife had narrowly missed Roan's heart when it pierced her sternum), as well as her nose and mouth. Her eyes were closed and her skin was pale. A monitor beside her bed beeped steadily.

With shaking hands, Michelle clumsily removed her 'eye' and put one hand over her mouth. "I don't feel good."

"Neither do I," Gage said. His nervousness was elevated when he spied the vase of midnight-black carnations by her bed. _I swear to god, if I see an orange… _"Let's go," he said. He turned to her. "Anything you want to say to her?"

Michelle wanted to say something. Apologize perhaps, even though she knew Roan's accident wasn't her fault. _But if I hadn't made that stupid decision..._regret and reluctance clawed at her heart. And seeing Roan hooked up to machines and knowing that thousands of miles away, Ethan probably looked the same way…. she didn't want to deal with any more angst. "No," she said quietly. "Later. I need to go back to my dorm and watch a good comedy." _If I don't laugh, I'm gonna cry. _She walked out of the room with Gage right behind her. He closed the door softly on their way out.

XXXX

They took a taxi for the trip back from Lawndale General. Neither said a word to each other until they got of the taxi. "I hate this place," Michelle said matter-of-factly as she stepped onto the curb.

"That's partially why I decided to leave," Gage said.

"Ever think you'll come back?" she asked him.

"Maybe. I'm enjoying my break, but it does feel really easy, Lawndale High." They walked through a courtyard and strode up to Blair. "Hope you feel better, Michelle."

She said, "At the moment, I'm a bit more worried about Roan. But thanks, Ga-"

"Michelle! Gage!"

Karis came running out of the shadows. Gage emitted a gasp: she had a black eye, and she was on the verge of crying. "Karis, what happened? And where's Wehrung?"

"Th-they….they….Mafia….."

XXXX

In the basement that served as the Mafia's base, Dmitri Vagin walked up to the boy tied to a chair, and pulled a black hood off of Wehrung's face. The ASP's mouth had been duct-taped, and another strip of duct tape had been put over his other eye.

Dmitri pinched the corner of the strip of tape over Wehrung's mouth and ripped it off. The ASP immediately spat out a stream of terrible curse words.

"I get that you're angry," said Dmitri impatiently, intentionally lowering the timbre of his voice, "But the sooner you tell me what I want to know, the sooner we'll let you out of here." In his hand, he held a golden pin with a snake on it. "And the first thing you're going to explain is this whole 'Periculosum Valde' thing."

-Thanks to Shiva for beta-reading.


	20. The Fall of the ASPS

**Two Years Ago**

Across from Lynn Building, a girl with matted, strawberry blonde hair, holding two textbooks under her arm spotted something that she thought she'd never see again: a student stuffed into a trash-can. _I guess Jack was wrong; people haven't gotten the message yet,_ she thought tiredly. The idea that her efforts to counteract the constant bullying on-campus were failing was not a good feeling. She felt even worse when she remembered that she was graduating in a month, and would be leaving the defenseless to the mercy of Fielding's scum. _Have I not done enough?_

She snapped back to reality when she heard the student, a boy, emit a grunt that was both enraged and frustrated as he tried to free himself of the garbage receptacle. Other students walking nearby either ignored him, or they laughed. Feeling pity for him, she walked over to him as he tried to wedge his way free; he had been put in the can bottom first. When he looked up at her with angry yellow eyes that had clearly been crying at one point, she felt his humiliation. "I don't need any help," growled Ethan. He started to angrily rock the garbage can back and forth.

"Stop!" exclaimed the young woman. Her hand flew to the rim of the can, stopping him from tipping it over. "You're going to hurt yourself," she said, concerned.

Ethan did not make eye contact with her. "Falling onto the ground would only serve to brighten my day, Annette," he mumbled.

"How do you know my name?" she asked, surprised.

He gave her a look that was both quizzical and slightly condescending. "It's on the spine of your textbooks," he reminded her.

Instinctively, she glanced at them and chuckled lightly. "Right. I forgot." Annette turned back to Ethan and offered her hand. "Come on, let me help you out."

He hesitated at first, fearful that this was a trick, another one of the many plots to humiliate him by other students. But the kindness in her expression convinced Ethan long enough for him to take her hand, and allow her to pull him out of the garbage bin. Annette fought the urge to whistle in amazement; she could tell from his voice that he was young, but he was still taller than her by at least a foot. "Thanks," he muttered, still very much embarrassed. He wiped candy and streaks of dirt off his uniform.

"You fail a Knowledge question?" Annette guessed.

"No, I have every passage of that worthless book memorized," he sighed, wiping at his eyes. "What happened was I was explaining to a student the difference of a low-functioning and high-functioning autistic, using myself as an example for the latter," he explained. "I must have been talking too loud, because the next thing I knew, I was being stuffed into a garbage bin."

Annette's eyes widened. She took a risk and asked, "Do you have Asperger's syndrome?"

He eyed her suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"

XXXX

"It sounds like an interesting club," Ethan said to the three other students sitting around him in Annette's room.

"Not a club," clarified Brian, a boy with curly brown hair wearing a black fedora. "A secret society."

"A secret society, eh?" said Ethan. "So I assume that if I refuse to join, you will have to kill me?"

"How do you feel about sharks?" joked Jonathan Card. That got Annette and Brian to grin, and Ethan smiled for a mere second, before asking another question.

"If I join, what can you guarantee me?"

"Protection," said Annette. "Friendship. And the complete absence of boredom."

Now Ethan allowed himself a full smile, revealing his vampiric teeth. "I like the sound of that," he said. _This is sounding more and more like my kind of group. And at last, revenge against the shallow and vain… _"I'm in."

"Just one last thing," said Annette. She leaned forward. "Do you promise to always preserve this group, and show true dedication to its members?"

"Do I have to raise my hand into the air for this?" he quipped.

She shrugged. "Doesn't matter. But do you?"

Ethan gave a nod. "I promise to try and preserve this group, and show true dedication to its members."

"All right," Annette said with a smile. She motioned to Jonathan, who reached inside his Fielding blazer and produced a gold pin with a snake emblazoned on it. Gingerly, he handed it to Ethan, who tucked it into his own pocket.

"It's settled then." Annette extended her hand, which Ethan shook. "Welcome to the ASPS, Ethan Dressler."

**Two Years Later, in the Mafia Headquarters...**

"No," Wehrung whimpered, "Please stop….aaaaaah!" he squealed as he felt himself being tickled again. At first, he'd found it amusing that this was the Mafia's preferred method of 'torture.' But then hours passed, with the tickling occurring in random intervals. It had worn down on him physically and mentally, and he'd been tied up in the chair so long that he was cramped and numb. He wasn't sure, but he might have wet himself at one point. "I've told you everything about the ASPS-"

"We still want to know where you get your resources from," Dmitri said, circling around the ASP. "Just tell me, and you go free. Believe me man, I'm not enjoying this either, I haven't had dinner yet-"

"Dinner?!" The fact that his captor felt more empathy for his own stomach than _him _filled Wehrung with a blinding rage. When he heard the Mafia's leader's footsteps get close enough, Wehrung lunged in the chair and tried to bite Dmitri, but only succeeded in tipping the chair over on its side. He fell to the floor with a loud _whump_. The Mafia laughed, and Wehrung screeched like a wounded animal.

Dmitri merely rolled his eyes. "Pick him up, and someone get a feather-"

BOOM! Even with the basement door shut, they could still hear the sound of the explosion from outside. Dmitri froze, and Wehrung felt a glimmer of hope flutter inside of him.

"What the hell was that?" asked Ben, a skinny boy with hair that fell down his back.

"No idea," Dmitri said. "So how about you and Virgil go check it out? It was probably someone setting off a firework."

"What if it's his friends?" Ben asked nervously.

"Then send them on their merry way," Dmitri said impatiently. "Go."

Ben and Virgil, a somewhat muscular junior, headed up the stairs and outside to check out the source of the noise. Meanwhile, Dmitri knelt next to Wehrung and smiled evilly. "They're not coming for you, Wehrung. They have no idea where you GAH!" The cycloptic ASP had spat in his eye. Angrily, Dmitri kicked him in the stomach, and Wehrung screamed in pain, before calling Dmitri as many nasty names as he knew.

"I'll forget you said that," Dmitri said. He walked around to the back of Wehrung and with the help of George, the only Mafioso left in the room, lifted him upright. "All right," said Dmitri, "Let's get back to work." He reached for Wehrung's neck.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"

The cry had come from upstairs. Dmitri whirled around, and felt his jaw drop. Loudly bouncing down the staircase in successive metallic clangs, was an unpinned grenade. "HOLY MOTHER!" screeched George. He and Dmitri immediately dove to the floor, holding their heads. Dmitri waited. Two seconds. Five. Ten. Nothing. As he began to stand up, he heard George scream. He looked and saw Gage Thystun shooting pepper-spray into his friend's face. "No!" he cried. He was about to charge Gage, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. That hand twisted him around.

Michelle Smith, wearing a scowl on her face that could have split the ground open, drew back her fist and swung with all her might. Dmitri blacked out as he felt his nose break.

XXXX

An hour later, after he cleaned himself up, Wehrung was sitting with Gage, Michelle, and Karis in his room. He didn't look at any of them. "I told them, guys. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, dude," Gage assured him. "It's not your fault."

"I'm with him," said Michelle. "But, and I'm sorry to ask you after everything you went through, Alex, but we need to know: exactly how much did you tell them?"

"Everything," he said in hushed tone.

"What do you mean," Karis said, "every-"

"Everything!" he snapped, a wild look in his eye. "Everything. They know your names, they know how long you've all been in the ASPS, they know where we meet, they-"

"It's okay," Gage said reassuringly. He went up to his friend and patted him on the back. "Everything's alright, dude."

Karis looked to Michelle. "What can we do? Are they going to come after us?" she asked, trembling slightly in anxiety.

"Probably, yeah," Michelle said.

"So what do we do, Michelle?" Gage asked.

"Why are you asking me?" she replied.

He gave her a surprised look. "Uh, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but you've pretty much been our leader, ever since Ethan left."

_I've never thought of myself as a leader,_ Michelle thought. _But after the mistakes I've made, I don't want to be._ But in this moment, she knew they were looking to her. "Well," she said, "I guess we'll just have to see what happens."

Wehrung blinked. "See what happens? You want to wait for them to pulverize us?"

"Well, what do you want to do?" she snapped at him. "Do you want to go and ask them politely not to bother us, or go to the office and tell them that the Mafia is after us, potentially pissing them off to an even greater degree, earn us the reputation of tattletales, and risk it being known that we were the ones who set the trap for them?"

That shut them all up. Acknowledging that the situation was extremely grim, they resigned themselves to silence, until Gage said, "Well, what if...no."

Karis looked at him hopefully. "No, tell us."

He wrung his hands, nervous to explain his idea. "Well, ah, um...what about doing what I did? Leaving the school while still being enrolled as an independent study product? We'll all be away from Fielding, and we can come back any time we want."

They all considered the idea. "That's….an interesting idea" Michelle said. But what she meant to say was that she was all for it; she was quickly growing tired of the ongoing violence between the ASPS and the Mafia, and the stress was getting to her. She was missing her home in Maine more and more by the second.

Wehrung, though, was not enthusiastic. "What would I tell my parents?" he asked. "I can't tell them I'd leave Fielding. They'd be so upset, and even if they accepted, they'd still have to pay for my tuition! I can't-"

"I can help you there," Gage said. He received a confused look from his friend. "Trust me dude, my grandpa is loaded."

"Really?" Wehrung said. "Then why do you guys live in such a dump?"

"Well, first of all, I happen to like that dump," Gage said grumpily. "I find it to be homey. And second of all, my grandpa has been saving a lot of money over the years, from when he was a lawyer, and from our tailoring business. Trust me, we could give you and your family a hand. Hell, we could even take you in if you wanted. There's room, and it would be no problem at all."

Wehrung grit his teeth and looked away, making child-like noises that gave voice to his uncertainty and fear. "...I don't know, man. I'm not good with change, and I'm still not sure about my parents. I just don't know."

"That's okay," Gage said. He patted Wehrung on the back. "Just think about it." He turned to their English friend. "Karis? What do you think?"

She shook her head, slowly and sadly. "I can't. No way around it. My parents...they'd never let me leave here after what I did at Wycombe-Abbey. I made them look bad, and they wouldn't support me if I went to another school. They wouldn't support me at all if I left Fielding."

Wehrung looked at Gage. "Can you-"

"No," Karis quickly interjected, knowing what he was going to ask. She smiled sadly at them both. "I don't want to be a bother. Besides, I'm actually learning a lot here." She looked hopefully at Michelle, whom she thought to be one of the best friends she had ever had. "Would you stay, Michelle?"

Michelle gave a sigh. "Karis…."

"Please?" The eighth-grader took her sunglasses off so Michelle could see her eyes, which were pleading. "I need you here. I need someone."

Her friend's plea ripped at Michelle's heart, and it made her feel like crying, she felt so guilty. But she felt she had to leave; she was tired, so tired of hurting people. It was enough. She had had enough. Being the badass was not good enough anymore, not if it meant putting herself and her friends in danger. "...I can't," Michelle said in a small voice.

Karis's face fell. Her lip began to quiver, and her fists tightened. She took a sharp breath. "Fine!" She put her sunglasses back on, stood up, and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

As the air reverberated from Chapman's swift departure, Michelle allowed her head to fall into her hands, and she cried. Gage and Wehrung both went to her and tried their best to comfort her. But it was the final nail in the coffin: she had hurt someone she cared about.

XXXX

The next day, Wehrung was on his way to class, when someone slammed his books out of his hand. He turned to the perpetrator, and yelled, "What the hell, man?" Then someone behind him violently shoved him to the ground, and he felt a kick in his side. Wehrung cried out in pain, and curled into a fetal position, anticipating another attack. But when he looked up, there were no large, hulking bullies standing over him, no taunters. Just other kids giving him odd looks. _God,_ he thought. _I hope that wasn't_ them…

But for the next several weeks, Wehrung faced repeated attacks like this. They were random, quick, and brutal. And he was soon wandering from class to class, clutching himself tightly, scanning crowds in constant fear.

XXXX

Karis faced similar attacks, only instead of being violently pushed, someone kept stealing her sunglasses. There were times when she couldn't leave her room, for fear of severely burning her eyes. She had to wait for deliveries from Zara Wehrung, who was sympathetic to her plight. But often, someone would dart out of nowhere, push her, and in broad daylight, steal her sunglasses. Karis would scream as the light seared her eyes before running indoors, looking for a dark corner. And like, Wehrung, she was soon in constant fear, as well as pain.

XXXX

As for Michelle, she was not bothered. People around campus all knew her as the blind girl, but many also knew her as the blind girl with an affinity for kicking ass. Bullying her was not on anyone's list of priorities.

However, one day, when Michelle was not wearing her artificial eye, she was walking down a set of stairs. Not in Fielding, but at the new Mall of the Millenium, which Gage had been gracious enough to drive her to. As she was walking down a set of stairs, someone shoved her from behind. Michelle screamed as she tumbled down, knocking over other shoppers. She felt her knee bang into a step as she fell.

When she finally hit the bottom of the stairs, no bones were broken, but she had several cuts on her legs, and she could hear some other shoppers cursing her for being a clumsy blind girl.

It wasn't until Gage had found her at the food court, clutching her cut knee and grimacing did she find out from him that he had seen Dmitri Vagin running through the same area as where she had been. Michelle became livid, realizing that the leader of the Mafia had just tried to _murder_ her. "That's it," she said. "I've had enough."

XXXX

At the next ASPS meeting, lacking Gage, the mood had changed somewhat. Wehrung, who managed to convey a thousand-yard stare with an eye-patch one, said, "I've called my parents and told them what happened. I'm going to live with Gage and go to Lawndale High for the rest of sophomore year, which is, what, another half-year?"

"Just about, yeah," Michelle said. "And I'm moving back to Bangor. I think I'll also stay until junior year, including summer vacation. So the next nine months, pretty much." Her face waned. "We won't see each other for another nine months."

The fact washed over the three. They were silent, until Wehrung, smiling slightly, said jokingly, "So, neither of you have babies." He received two disdainful looks, and he shrank where he sat. "Never mind. Sorry. Bad joke."

There was a brief, awkward silence. "And what about me?" Karis said, looking both afraid and angry. "I can't leave. The Mafia will slaughter me!"

"No they won't, Karis," said Michelle reassuringly. "I'm going to-"

"Do what?" Karis said tearfully. "Leave? Leave me?"

"Do not make this about you, Karis!" Michelle exclaimed suddenly. "You're not the only one here! I don't want to leave you either, but-"

"But nothing! I'm going to get killed by a bunch of hulking goons, and you don't care!"

"Of course I care!" Michelle shouted back, standing up in her chair. "I care very much! But I can't stay, Karis, and you know why! It's because I'm not safe either! Not only that, but I...I just need a break," she said, now talking to herself. "I need a break, a break..."

Karis noticed how tired Michelle looked, how she looked almost like a soldier returning from war. Her shoulders fell, and suddenly feeling shame, she said softly, "Yeah. Okay." She turned and left.

Wehrung looked at Michelle. "She's right, though. How are we going to protect her?"

"I don't know." It killed Michelle to say that. "I just don't know."

Another silence pervaded the room. Eventually, Wehrung broke it. "Michelle?"

She snapped out of her depressed haze and looked at him. "Yeah?"

"When we come back, we can still be friends, but I don't want to do this whole ASPS thing anymore. I've had enough. I don't want to keep under the illusion, and it is an illusion, that we are the highest moral order here. I don't believe that anymore. I'm done."

He waited anxiously for her response. It came in the form of a nod. "I'm done too."

XXXX

The next day, a she was packing her belongings into several suitcases, Michelle's cordless telephone rang. She picked it up. "Hello?"

"Michelle Smith?" asked a high-pitched male voice.

"Uh, yes? May I ask who's calling?"

"My name is Ronald Dippre, I'm the new head of medicine at Lawndale General." Michelle felt a squeeze of panic. He continued, "One of my patients asked if you would come to see her, because she's too weak to come to the phone right now. Her name is-"

"I know who Roan is. I'll come see her," Michelle cut in. She hung up the phone and took a panicked breath. _Oh no, nononono. What's she going to say to me? Does she think it's my fault? Will she tell the police that it was? Can I get them to believe me? _Her heart pounded harder as her mind raced through all the terrible possibilities. But, knowing that there was only one way to find out, she swallowed, picked up her cane, strapped on her 'eye' and headed out to Lawndale General. But as she was halfway there, a thought came to her. A thought that gave her hope.

XXXX

Michelle knocked on Roan's hospital door softly. When she got no response, she opened the door slightly and peeked in. On the shimmering digital screen that served as an eye for her, she saw Roan staring back at her. Roan made a slight beckoning motion with her head. Michelle slowly shuffled in, her fingers nervously squeezing the hilt of her cane.

The two girls stared at each other for a while, before Roan said in a small voice, "What's new?"

Taken aback by the simple question, Michelle said, "Um, not much. How about you?"

Roan used her eyes to indicated the TV. "They don't have HBO. Lousy hospital."

That got Michelle to smile briefly, but the solemness of Roan's expression quickly extinguished it. "How are you feeling?" Michelle asked.

"All right, considering I stabbed myself with my dad's own knife. He would get a kick out of that," she said ruefully before making a small, angry coughing noise. Michelle decided not to pry into that. Roan looked up at her. "Everything all right with the Mafia? Dmitri forgive you?"

"No," Michelle said. Sitting down in a chair, her expression hardened as she recounted to Roan the past several weeks.

By the end, Roan's eyes were wide with horror. "I never thought he would do anything like that," she whispered. "I've known him for years, never has Dmitri….I'm so sorry, Michelle."

"It doesn't matter," she sighed sadly. "Wehrung and I have decided to take a break from Fielding."

"Break? What do you mean, a break?"

"We aren't dropping out or anything," Michelle explained. "But we've decided we've had enough. Enough of the people who do bad things, enough of the people who make us do bad things. Fielding is corrupting us. We need time to cool our jets. I'll be going to school at Perkins School for the Blind, and Wehrung is going to Lawndale with Gage. We're going to do the same thing Gage did: concurrently enroll, but our new schools will be a sort of alternate study assignment. It's complicated."

Roan noticed the absence of one name. "What about Chapman?"

"Well, Roan…." Michelle twiddled her thumbs. "That's something I want to talk to you about. You're a strong girl, and loyal, from what I've been able to glean from you. I-"

"Let me guess," Roan croaked. "You want me to serve as her bodyguard."

Michelle nodded. "Karis is too scared to leave Fielding, not like she could anyway. Her parents are on another continent, and they won't let her go to another school. She has to stay, but I want to know she's okay. Just think of it as making it up for threatening her with that knife."

Roan absorbed this request, and lightly tapped her fingers against her bed-sheets. "Does she know about this?"

"No. I know she's not going to like the idea. She's already angry enough at me for leaving, she wouldn't accept it, even if it wasn't you. She can't know about this; you have to be her fairy godmother, so to speak."

"A fairy godmother with a Swiss-Army knife."

"...yeah."

"And if I refuse?"

Michelle's one visible eye pleaded with her. "I'm begging you to say yes. Please, Roan. Please do this for me."

Roan leaned back into her pillows and sighed. She knew that she owed Karis for threatening her, but she had still been the one who tricked her...tricked her into selling out a group Roan had once loved. But now she saw that they were no better than the Fielding students they targeted in turn. "Fine," she said begrudgingly. "I'll be her bodyguard. But you know that once you're gone, Dmitri will still go after her, right? I can't fend off the whole Mafia."

Michelle cracked her knuckles absent-mindedly. "Don't worry. You won't have to."

XXXX

Dmitri walked out of his dorm hall, itching uncomfortably at the white cast that covered his broken nose. He thought about all the other ways he could torment the ASPS, each scenario more gleefully unpleasant than the last. "I will not rest until they've paid for their actions," he announced to the gathered members of the Mafia.

"Or your medical bills," someone in the room had joked.

He was angry; not only had he been hurt physically, but his pride had taken the much bigger blow; he had had his nose broken by a girl, and a blind one at that. He was thankful that nobody outside the Mafia knew about it, otherwise he would be finished. The Mafia would be finished. He thought at least pushing Michelle Smith down those stairs would give him a smidgen of comfort; it hadn't. It only made him feel worse.

He continued to ponder as he waded through crowds of students, until the point that he tripped on something cold and metallic. "Ah!" Dmitri stumbled, but didn't fall. He turned and said, "Watch where you're going, you-" he froze when he saw who it was.

"What's wrong, Dmitri?" said Michelle as loudly as she could, so that the crowd could hear her. They had; a circle slowly began to form around the two. "You afraid of fighting a girl?" As she shouted that, Michelle knew she had trapped him. She knew Dmitri didn't want to appear weak, but knew if he fought a girl, and a blind one at that, he would be finished.

"I'm just not in the mood to fight," he exclaimed, trying to hide his panic.

"Well, I am," she said, louder. "And you're going to pay for the hell you and your little Mafia buddies have been putting me and my friends through for the past month!" She lifted her cane into the air in a theatrical matter. Then, she opened her palm, and let it fall to the ground, where it clanged loudly. "It's just you and me, you little bitch."

There were several "Oh!"s from the crowd. Dmitri felt his face go red. "You and your scum pals deserved what they got. Oh, are you mad now, little girl," he said tauntingly as Michelle approached him, not realizing the danger. "What are you going to do about-"

He stopped talking when the back of her hand stingingly made contact with his face, barely missing the broken nose. At this point, Dmitri broke. He emitted an angry yell and swung his fist at Michelle, connecting with the left side of her face, her literal blind side. She cried out in pain and backed away. She exhaled, trying to ignore the pain. Cracking her neck and assuming a fighting stance, she thought, _This is it, ass-wipe_. She summed up her situation; while she had a good four inches at least on Dmitri, he was more muscular than her, and her knee still hurt like hell. _I've got to be careful, then._

Dmitri threw a left hook, then a straight left punch. Michelle blocked both, and realized that he was aiming for her 'eye.' She made a quick mental note to defend it before she threw a quick punch at his nose, which he sidestepped.

Countering with a hook, Dmitri aimed for her 'eye' again, but Michelle ducked and delivered a punch to his stomach, winding him. Dmitri doubled over, coughing. For a moment, Michelle thought she had already beaten him, until he suddenly sprang up, and whirling around, attempted to roundhouse kick her. She jumped back. _That's right. He knows martial arts._ Well, as long as we're playing that way….

Michelle darted towards him, dodging a jab aimed at her throat, and tried to punch his nose again. He avoided her strike, and delivered two swift, but hard punches to her gut. Michelle gasped and let out a racking, pained cough. As he went for a third punch, she caught his wrist and twisted it. Dmitri screamed.

Michelle shoved him away and darted towards him. With a grunt, she lifted him bodily in the air and threw him, where he landed hard on the ground.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Michelle spat at him. "Had enough, Dmitri?"

Instead of answering her, he rolled away, over to her cane. He picked it up and leapt to his feet, holding it in the air as if it were a sword.

Michelle paled. _Oh, crap._

He charged at her, swinging her own cane at her head. Michelle ducked as the cane whooshed by her skull. She jumped away as Dmitri made a stabbing thrust directed at her chest, and pain shot up her knee. Now very much on the defensive, Michelle continued to dodge his strikes. However, she took fleeting pleasure in the derogatory shouts directed at Dmitri for his dirty fighting.

Dmitri ran at Michelle again. He made a feint at her left side, then swung the cane at her right as if it were a baseball bat, hitting her in the right side. Michelle gasped and fell, clutching at her now-bruised ribs. She gave a racking cough as the right side of her torso burned. She cried out again as she felt her cane hit her in the back, and for a fleeting moment, Michelle knew what it was like to be one of her own victims.

The force of the impact caused her to flip onto her back, where she saw Dmitri towering over her like a giant. He raised the cane into the air as if to deliver a killing blow. And in that instant, Michelle knew it was best to fight fire with fire.

As Dmitri swung the cane down at her in a deadly arc, Michelle grit her teeth, ignoring all her pain and mustering all her strength to twist around and kick her foot up at his crotch. She swore she heard a cracking noise. Her cane fell beside her head.

Dmitri collapsed to the ground and curled up in a fetal position, clutching at his crotch. With difficulty, Michelle stood up and put her foot on his chest. She gave him a hard stare that she maintained until he finally looked away. Michelle looked up at the crowd.

"On behalf of my organization, I would just like to establish that I have just made the head of the Mafia my metaphorical bitch. He has just had his ass whooped by a blind girl. Chew on that for a while." She took her foot off of his chest, and looking down at him, growled, "And don't you dare get back up."

Dmitri said nothing. He just stared at her with a look that conveyed pain, humiliation, hatred, and terror.

She turned away, and breathed a sigh, glad that was over. _And if I get in trouble now, it doesn't matter. I need a break from this place, the place that made me do….that. _

Picking her cane up, Michelle walked through the crowd that quickly parted for her, and headed back to Blair to continue packing. As she walked there, she looked down and noticed blood on her front. She did not know if it was hers or Dmitri's, and for now, she did not care.

XXXX

**Two Days Later**

Wehrung finished packing his things. His heart pounding in his chest, he turned around to be faced with Roy Clem, sitting in his chair in the middle of their doorway. Wehrung gave a sad shrug. "Hey."

"I'm really sorry you have to go," Roy said sincerely. "I barely got to know you."

"I'm sorry I didn't get to know you either, Roy," Wehrung replied. The corners of his mouth turned up to smile a little. "But I'll be back for next year. We'll catch up then, all right?"

Roy nodded, and smiled back. Stepping up to his roommate, Wehrung gave him a hug made awkward by the obstruction of Roy's wheelchair. "You need help bringing anything out?" asked his bespectacled roommate.

_Well, bless his heart._ "I think I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll see you in…" Wehrung glanced at his watch. "A long time."

Roy laughed at that. He brought his chair backwards to allow Wehrung to pass. He waved to his roommate one last time as he walked out of Underhill."

XXXX

As Zara Wehrung helped Michelle carry her luggage out from Blair to a cab that was waiting on the far side of the school, she said, "My parents are really angry about this."

Michelle swallowed. "About your brother leaving?"

"What? Oh! No! They're pissed that he got bullied to the point of leaving. They're seriously considering suing the school. There goes my social life," Zara said dryly.

"Oh," Michelle breathed, relieved. "Yeah, believe me, I'm not happy about it either. You going to miss him?" she asked.

"Nah," Zara shrugged.

"Oh. Okay then."

"I mean, it's not like he's moving away. Harris Studios is, what, a ten minute walk from here?"

"That's true."

Eventually, they made it to the waiting cab, where the other ASPS had gathered to say goodbye to her. Wehrung was already out of the Fielding uniform, wearing his favorite brown leather jacket.

"Gonna miss you," he said before hugging her tightly.

"Give all the other blind kids what-for," Gage joked, who hugged her in turn.

Karis also gave Michelle a hug, but said nothing. Looking at the small girl, Michelle wished she could see behind the thick sunglasses. She wondered if the eyes behind them were either angry or sad. "I will be back," she promised Karis.

"You'll be back," Wehrung parroted in a bad impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Karis wrinkled her nose at that. But she looked at Michelle, and in this moment, tried to forgive her. But it was hard. "Okay," was all she was able to say.

Pursing her lips tightly, Michelle stepped away from Karis and looked at her friends, knowing she would not see them for nine months. _It's not goodbye forever,_ she reminded herself. But that didn't stop her from feeling melancholy and a little regretful. She tried to think of some words of wisdom to impart; perhaps a reflection of their experiences. But nothing would come.

She settled for, "All right," and tried not to choke up. "Bye." She saw that Zara had already placed her luggage into the cab. Michelle got in, and shut the door. Still restraining herself from crying, she waved to the three. Wehrung and Gage waved back, and so did Karis, but not with as much energy. _Oh Roan, please keep her safe,_ Michelle thought. When the cab began to pull away, Michelle finally let herself break down.

After the car was out of sight, Gage nodded his head at the Fielding parking lot. "Let's get going." He turned to Karis and smiled. "Hey. See you this weekend?"

"Oui," said Karis gloomily. But she giggled when Wehrung raised his fist for her to bump, which she did. The boys both hugged her, said their goodbyes, and walked off, with Zara Wehrung following close behind.

A heaviness weighing in her chest, Karis took a sharp breath, and tore her eyes away from them, back toward the oppressive campus of Fielding Preparatory Academy. She dismally shuffled back to Blair alone. And as she took each painful step that reminded her that she was once again friendless at school, her once closely-held optimism died.

**To be continued in ASPS 3**

-With thanks to Kristen Bealer for beta-reading!


End file.
